The Test
by WhiskeyTangoFoxtrot
Summary: He does not know the ways in which he tests her. Even as an aide, Nyota Uhura is, quite unfortunately, drawn to her instructor. A story set during Nyota's last few months at the Academy. Spock/Uhura. Part Nine up now!
1. part one

**A/N:** This is my attempt to write out Uhura as a student; she's a little nervous, but she knows exactly how smart she is. I hope you enjoy reading her as much as I liked writing her.

Thanks so much to **clonus7 **for such a quick beta-readthrough and her corrections, which all made perfect sense! I got inspired by **taraljc** and her "Journey to Drabble" Spock/Uhura piece "boundaries" on the st_reboot LJ community; she wrote such a lovely piece about Uhura's singing and the small bit in this story about Uhura's choral concert stemmed from that.

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**Part One: The Test**

The door slides open, allowing Cadet Nyota Uhura access to his quarters on base. It closes behind her, leaving her alone with him.

_Commander Spock, please do not kill me._

She chides herself. Her fear is that, once she tells him about her discovery, the core of his Vulcan emotions will swirl within him and his human side will allow them to escape. Uhura shakes her head. The Vulcan way of life is of logic and peace; Vulcans will fight, sure, but they will only raise arms when necessary.

Perhaps telling her instructor that his translations are wrong might be one of those times?

Uhura commands herself to stop. She has a job to do, and if it displeases him, she will take the heat. Even if that means losing her spot as an Academy aide for advanced phonology for next year. She hopes it will not come to that.

She needs to do something, or else her train of thought will undo her.

There is ambient light and no other illumination in the room; the large window opposite the metal door is dark, shielding the midday sun for the moment. A pleasant odor fills his quarters; a sweet-scented smoke imbues the air around her. It reminds Uhura of the tuberose flower — her favorite scent. But it is not tuberose, because that flower belongs to the Earth. It is a Vulcan herb that smells quite similar and produces the same calming effects on her mind. She can feel her breathless anxiety waning.

He sits on the floor, his back to her. She sees a tendril of smoke float past his shoulder; it undulates toward the ceiling. Uhura knows this is the source of the comforting smell; he is meditating.

And, of course, she, who is without tact, disturbs him.

Slowly, gracefully, he rises. He presses his hand against a pad on the wall and the ambient light dims. The windows lighten gradually, allowing a measure of light to pour into the room.

The commander, dressed in his dark grey Academy-standard uniform, pivots to face her. "My office is always open for my students, Cadet Uhura. Do not think that you will interfere with my meditations."

She can't help herself. Sometimes, she is far too inquisitive for her own good. "Doesn't meditation work better when you do it uninterrupted?"

"For humans, that may be the case, although you, as a species, do not require the practice for your own… _needs_. Vulcans, however, have learned to use meditation as a remedy for certain ailments that afflict our race. As such, we have trained our minds to accept the therapeutic qualities of meditation and to preserve our mental states, regardless of any disturbances."

"Oh?"

"I did not intend to imply that your presence in my room is disturbing."

She can only stare at him. "I… didn't think you did, Commander." She clears her throat and tries to return to a state of composure.

So much of Commander Spock throws her off, befuddles her. She supposes she harbors a crush on the man, if one wanted to define the quick palpitations in her heart whenever he was within close proximity. But, most importantly, she admires his mind, his discipline, and the calmness with which he approaches every facet of Starfleet life.

Uhura knows humans amuse and confuse him, particularly their shows of emotion and their indulgence in the irrational. But he is drawn to them, no doubt due to his parentage. He enjoys Earth, with all of its foibles, and instead of forcing his logic upon her world, he ingratiates himself into it. He uses his intelligence when asked, but she never hears him utter anything cruel or insulting about Earth and its denizens.

This leads to interesting musings for her. Often, she wonders what he thinks of her. Would he ever think of her in _that_ manner? Or does he think about other women instead? There are moments when she fancies that his eyes linger on her face longer than the other cadets when she talks to him before and after his lessons. Or that he calls on her for answers five times more than any other person in his class. Briefly, she remembers the time he made an observation that her talents in the Academy's Chorale Ensemble would — logically, of course — translate into proficiency in phonology and acoustical engineering.

She still feels it was his way of complimenting her, as he made this particular observation after watching her sing a rather challenging choral piece about a month ago.

Of course, the fruition of anything developing between them could spell trouble for either party. Instead, she convinces herself that she has applied to be his aide next year for none of those schoolgirl notions, that she has applied because he is the best teacher of advanced phonology in decades and getting the position could mean great things for her future.

She might finally touch the stars, and live up to the meaning of her name.

"Commander Spock, I have finished looking over the entire report, a-and—"

She shuts her eyes and bites her lip. Uhura can see her dream slipping away from her.

"Yes?"

Infinity stretches out before her, endless and unknown and frightening. "You are wrong, sir."

There is nothing but silence. He crosses his arms and stares at her, this time both of his eyebrows arching as high as they can go. "I am wrong?"

She nods.

"Fascinating."

She ignores her pounding heart, her churning stomach, and she continues. "With all due respect to the relationship between Vulcan and Romulan societies, of which you are obviously aware and are probably very sensitive about—"

Uhura flinches. She needs to control this mouth of hers.

"Sir, the last portion of your work fails to properly take into account the phonetic dissimilarities between a now-dead Romulan dialect and one that is still used in the Romulan-dominant territories within the Beta Quadrant. Er… the outer rim of the quadrant, that is."

She points to the screen on which his report is displayed. She moves her fingers apart, and the image widens. A few more taps, and there is a bright green mark around the passage in question.

"Commander, you've mistranslated several sections of this passage because you didn't apply the correct dialect."

Spock leans closer to study her findings. He smells of the same sweet smoke that she inhaled when she entered his room earlier. Uhura pushes this observation out of her mind; she must focus on the task at hand, which is telling her Vulcan commander that he is wrong. Very, _very_ wrong.

He pulls the small screen from her hands. He does not make any sounds or any moves. Instead he stands perfectly still.

Finally, after an eternity passes, he looks at her. "Are you well trained in the three active Romulan dialects, Cadet Uhura?"

She laughs, hoping it sounds light and casual. Maybe she could even try a small quip. "Oh yeah, I'm good with _all_ their dialects. Romulan this… Romulan that. I'm up to my eardrums in Romulan."

He watches her, studies her with curiosity. She is getting even more nervous. And when she gets nervous, she can't shut herself up.

"Favorite way to spend a Friday night — curled up in my room with a bottle of Vulcan wine and a big book of everything Romulan."

She wants to kick herself now because she just sounds stupid. But, she pauses; for a split second, she thinks he is suppressing a smile.

"Fascinating."

"You keep saying that, sir, and I don't know. Is that a good fascinating or a bad fascinating?"

"Cadet Uhura, you are fascinating. And I would say that it is good."

This silences her. She has no idea how to reply. "Oh. Thanks?"

"First, if you are comfortable with it, you may call me Spock when you are in my office or away from my class."

This is not what she expected. She blinks and shakes her head a tiny bit, understanding, but not really, what he just said. "W-well then, thank you... Spock."

His name escapes from her mouth as if she asks a question. It is not unusual for some students to call professors by their first, or in this case only, name. But Spock is different. No one calls him by his proper name who isn't another commander. She thinks she may be the first student to be allowed this honor.

Her heart pounds away at an accelerated rate and she is thankful Vulcans do not shake hands, lest he takes hers and somehow reads or senses things running at lightning speed through her head.

A sudden urge to try something seizes her — although propriety and Starfleet's code of conduct certainly frowns on such forward actions between a cadet and a commander.

But then she thinks, _why the hell not?_

"You may call me Nyota when it's just the two of us." She has no idea what possesses her to phrase the reply like that, but she does and she waits for his response.

His face softens. "Very well then, Nyota."

_Oh God! _

She realizes her name sounds beautiful spoken in his voice.

"Second, I would like to address your assertion that I have made a mistake on this report—"

She braces herself.

"It appears that you are right."

"Yes… I am." Uhura prays that she sounds more confident than she feels.

"I find it curious that, when posed with the task of reviewing my work for a report that all of you were told would be submitted to the Federation's Journal of Xenolinguistics, none of the other five candidates found this error. Only you, Nyota, did so. And so you must allow me to say, once again, that you are fascinating."

She sighs. "Well, when you put it like… Wait, did you say _candidates_? Other candidates examined this before I had a chance to look at it?" Her eyes narrow; a growing suspicion creeps from the back of her mind. "When you say candidates, do you mean—?"

"I mean that all six of the remaining candidates for the Advanced Phonology aide position received the same report with the same error."

_I should've known!_

"Is there a problem?" he asks.

She pinches her face and looks away from him. "This is part of the selection process, isn't it?" She asks her question through gritted teeth.

"Indeed it is. It is the final part of the selection process. And only one applicant was able to find the error that was included in this exercise."

Uhura gapes at him. "I-I can't believe this. Sir, er… Spock, may I speak freely?"

"You may."

"Aren't Vulcans incapable of lying? Isn't this a _lie_?"

"A lie?" He has the foresight to look taken aback by the accusation. "It is an intellectual and professional exercise, Nyota." 

She forgets how nervous she was when she entered his quarters; Uhura feels annoyance and anger with Spock, and it is growing. At a rather rapid rate. "Please explain to me, sir, how this is an exercise of any kind."

"I sense you are angry with me."

"Pretty much, yes."

"Might I ask why? Is it because you feel like you were misled?"

"I _was_ misled! Do you know how long it took me to figure that out?" She jabs her finger at the report Spock still holds in his hands.

"You may tell me," he says, his voice infuriatingly calm.

"Two weeks! Two weeks I poured over a big, dusty book of dead Romulan dialects and phonology because every time I looked at that report, something didn't feel right. And I wasn't about to let something get published with your name on it that was wrong." She flaps her arms, completely aggravated. "And if I'm the only person that figured out the mistranslation, then I have no idea what that means for the xenolinguistics department and the quality of cadets that Starfleet's graduating!"

Spock sets the tablet down on his desk. "Allow me to address the source of your frustrations with my methods, Nyota."

She is _thisclose_ to telling him that he can no longer call her by her first name, but the sound of "Nyota" from his mouth and the unwavering calm of his voice inexplicably soothe her.

"I apologize since your understanding of this exercise led you to spend a greater amount of time on reviewing the report than you otherwise would have. But the cadet that will be selected for the aide position must be honest with me and the other instructors in the department. An aide needs to retain their own sense of independent judgment and speak up if they feel an instructor is performing erroneously, either to the instructor in question or to another. Do you disagree with this assessment?"

"Well, _no_, I don't disagree. It's sound reasoning."

"It is logical, Nyota."

She glares at him; he does not flinch, though. Uhura feels he regards her with a sort of bemusement. Normally, his stoicism would be cause for amused twitters between her and her friends; Gaila certainly relishes in teasing Uhura about her attraction to the commander whenever she can.

At this moment, she would like nothing more than to wipe the smug expression off of his face.

She is fairly sure that his current expression is smugness. As smug as a Vulcan can be. She hates to think that, perhaps, she can read him better than she thought she could.

"As for the quality of teaching and education in the xenolinguistics department, I can only surmise that two of your fellow candidates could not find the error. The other three, I believe, knew of the error and failed to inform me of it."  

"Why would they do that?"

"It is possible they were afraid of my reaction. They were too apprehensive to tell me that I was wrong."

"I was scared out of my pants to tell you _you_ were wrong, to be honest."

Spock nods as he stands next to the simple white couch that rests against his wall. "Yes, but you did tell me your findings and you were honest with me, regardless of your fears of how I might react. Nyota, let me ask you: why did you tell me?"

Why is he asking her this pointless question? _Because, you nitwit, I don't want you and this department to end up the laughingstock of the Federation!_ The words rest on the tip of her tongue and she is about to let loose as she normally does when she gets angry or feels insulted.

But something stops her. She thinks for a moment.

She is winning.

The realization dawns on her. She passes this final test, and the position is hers. The way he watches her, with a serene, relaxed expression, his lips curving slightly upward, looking at her with the utmost satisfaction.

_Do not ruin this moment!_

"I told you the truth because I wanted only the best work to come out of this department." She funnels her anger into something far more mellow. Snark. "And I must admit that I thought telling a Vulcan he was wrong would be a… _fascinating_ experience."

She cannot be certain, but she thinks his eyes widen in surprise at her last answer.

"I will agree with you, Nyota. Telling a Vulcan they are wrong is quite gratifying. It is something that I have had the pleasure of doing many times before."

She feels her confidence rising. She is nailing this.

"Does this mean that you're choosing me for the position?" She cannot hold back the grin that is blossoming on her face. He continues to regard her with that same satisfied expression. He walks towards her.

"No."

_What?!_

"What? But I passed. I'm everything you could want—"

"The final decision is not up to me. It is up to the head of the department. However, in his capacity as department director, Commander Patel has given me a substantial role in selecting the aide. I assure you that you fulfill all the requirements perfectly."

She is slightly mollified; she also does not miss a chance to build more of a rapport with Spock. "So I am exactly what you are looking for? Am I right in my understanding?"

She definitely does not miss it this time; he grins at her. True, it is close-mouthed, but she does see both corners of his mouth turn up a couple of millimeters, with the tiniest hint of lines forming around them. "Indeed you are."

"I just want to make sure, Spock. I don't want to walk away from here with any mistaken notions about where I stand with you."

He quirks his eyebrow and her heartbeat speeds up in her chest.

"I have no doubt in my mind that you will be a satisfactory choice for the position of aide." He bends down and picks up the report that started this whole mess.

"Do you know what your name means, Nyota?"

The change in tone and in the conversation catches her off guard. "It… it means 'star' in Swahili."

Spock nods. "It is an appropriate name for you, as you are one of the top pupils in the department."

"In the Academy, Spock."

He gives her a conciliatory nod. "Indeed."

She smiles, licking her lips as she thinks about the next thing she wants to say in the ensuing lull. "My mother was in love with the whole notion of traveling in space and the possibility of seeing stars up close. Naming me 'Nyota' meant she would always have a star in her life. At least that's what she said to me when I was younger."

He stares at her for several beats, not saying a word. It is not uncomfortable for her, though. It is calm, pensive. Much like the man that stands in front of her. There is nothing harsh or scary about his face; she wants to chide herself for being so nervous before. For one second, for one brief, fleeting moment, she imagines she can see just a hint of shyness, cloaked inside his Vulcan stoicism. The moment passes, but it lingers in the air. She breathes it in and it makes her wonder, despite the improbabilities, that _somethingmore_ might be possible between them.

"I will inform you as soon as the director makes his decision."

"Thank you, Spock. May I be excused?"

"Certainly."

With a nod, she turns around, thankful that he cannot see her smiling face or her skin, darkening ever so slightly as the blood rushes to her cheeks. As the door to his office slides open, she hears his voice, soft and deep.

"Nyota?"

Her hand on the wall, she turns around and sees him. He is holding his hand next to his face, his fingers separated into the shape of a V, in the custom of his people.

"Live long and prosper."

She smiles. Uhura raises her hand, but struggles with the salute. After a moment, she simply holds her palm up toward him. "And you the same."


	2. part two

**A/N:** No warnings. I must give a huge thank you to **mrstater** for her amazing beta-work and suggestions. After some thought, I decided to expand my Spock/Uhura one-shot "The Test" and explore their relationship at the Academy before the events of the movie. I did add some material to this after she looked it over for me, so any remaining mistakes here are mine. And I will be making this a small, multi-chapter fic.

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**Part Two: No Simple Matter**

Cadet Nyota Uhura, Advanced Phonology aide for Starfleet Academy's Xenolinguistics Department for the past five months, is on her ninth hour of listening to transmissions from deep within the Delta Quadrant.

Gone is the anger she felt toward Spock, the annoyance regarding how he misled her during the application process to be the Advanced Phonology aide. Now, her mind is all about her current job… and wondering where the commander is.

Her brain is tired, but still she works. There will soon be a vacancy for an aide in the Advanced Acoustical Engineering department, and she damn well knows she is more than qualified for it. Thus, she continues to work on her current assignment and to hell with everything else.

For this job, Starfleet has instructed Commander Spock to use his best resources to study some odd signals coming from the quadrant. While normally her role as Spock's aide consists of helping him prepare lessons for his lectures and research for his papers, among other duties, this was a special request made to both the commander and the instructor of the Advanced Acoustical Engineering class, Commander Douglas Kyle.

And both have their best people working on it with them.

For Spock, that obviously means Nyota; that thought pleases her greatly.

He has not left her side today, except for the past hour. They worked together, practically side-by-side, pouring over consoles, cleaning the signals from the transmission, and studying the Starfleet database to find any species or race that could be using this odd language system…

_He's hot._

_Stop that!_

_What? I'm talking about his brains. What are YOU talking about?_

"My brain hates me," she whines quietly; she is thankful that no one can read her thoughts. She blames this six-day workweek for the sudden mental dialogue sprouting in her head.

Not to mention occasionally picturing various images of her boss… images that are not entirely innocent.

_Quit it!_

Nyota finishes her notes on the PADD. Checking the time, she breathes out in relief. Five o'clock. Getting to work early on a Saturday has its benefits; she'll have plenty of time to go home, shower, and head out to the bars with Gaila and their friends—

Or maybe she won't. She feels tired. Perhaps she'll curl up with a nice bottle of Bajoran springwine and find something perfectly mindless to read. Take her mind off of _work this_ and _work that_…

Not to mention Spock, and how much time they have been spending together lately.

She drags her hand down her face, shuts her eyes and inhales through her nose. Her position as an Advanced Phonology aide affords both of them almost unlimited contact with the other person. For Nyota, spending time around Spock is not only mentally stimulating, but easy. Fun for her, and she suspects for him as well.

Their interactions always have a certain spirit about them. There is a teasing intellectualism that characterizes their conversations. A surprising amount too, given that it's Spock.

But there are more revealing moments from both parties. Nyota can see the smallest reactions to things she does or says, either with his quirking lips or his darkening skin. She fancies that he allows, only for a second or two, the briefest exposure of his human side. It makes her feel lightheaded that she can draw out this softness from Spock that others never see.

The physical displays of emotion recede, of course, because he catches himself before they blossom into more. But Nyota knows he is getting used to her—

_Flirting_.

Personality.

But their increased contact, their ever-growing comfort with each other makes things rather difficult. Confusing. There are rules that define what they are, what they can do, and most importantly, what they _cannot_ do.

It is the _cannot_ that drives Nyota up the wall, that makes her want to storm into the next Academy Council assembly and tell then exactly what they can do with their Code of Student Conduct.

If she had a schoolgirl crush before, Nyota realizes it has blossomed into something more adult.

And she wonders, on days like this, whether he feels it too.

_He is your professor, and he respects the Academy's rules._

_So that is clearly that. _

Nyota sets the earpiece down on the console and rubs her weary eyes. She sighs and stretches her arms high above her head. "Maybe I don't need to go out with the girls tonight."

"On the contrary, you have earned it by working as long and as hard as you have today."

His voice startles her and Nyota has to take a moment to breathe. Also to stifle the rather vulgar swear that is on the verge of slipping out.

She spins around to stare at the commander, slightly annoyed at how quietly he enters rooms… and how he manages to appear every time her thoughts turn to him.

"Spock! You scared me."

He tilts his head, peering at her curiously. "I assure you that my intention was not to scare you."

This time, Nyota cocks her eyebrow; she has practiced this mannerism, and now she can do it when the occasion calls. "You should give a girl warning next time you sneak upon her." Before she can stop herself, she blurts out, "You've been gone for a while. I was starting to worry."

She mentally smacks herself. _What the hell are you doing?_

Spock does not answer her for five seconds. In the ensuing quiet, she thinks she can see his face darken slightly. When he does finally answer, he ignores the last part of what she has said. To her great relief. "I only wanted to state an observation. It would benefit you to relax; therefore spending time with your friends would be—"

He pauses, searching for the right word.

"Fun, Commander?"

"Therapeutic. I know you have been here since this early this morning."

"You were here before I was."

"That is true," he says. "However, I am aware of the need humans have to balance their intellectual endeavors with recreation."

Nyota speaks without thinking. "Well, I'm not like most humans."

Spock nods in agreement. "Indeed, you are not. There is another concern that I have regarding the time you have spent here today."

Upon hearing this, she stops breathing. "You're concerned about something?"

"I am not certain if you have yet eaten today. Will it be necessary to order you to consume something to maintain your health?"

She smiles without reservation. There were a hundred different things Spock could've said at that point, all meaning the same thing: _"You are spending too much time with me, Nyota. I tire of your simple ways."_

He worries about her not eating. About her health. She attempts to convince herself that his concern is strictly professional, but she can't help but think there is more to it than that.

"No sir. I've managed to snack while you were gone. I'm fine—"

As if on cue, her stomach rumbles. The noise causes Spock's eyebrow to arch, punctuating the moment. "It appears that you disagree with your own conclusions."

"Yes. I do appear to disagree with myself."

"So, perhaps I shall order you to take care of yourself. After all, I enjoy your contributions to my lectures, both when you were a student and, now, as my aide. Your absence would be a detriment to me." He watches her, creasing his brow as if considering something before he speaks again. "And I admit that I have come to look forward to our interactions outside of work. Therefore, it would personally affect me should you require leave due to illness."

Nyota's mind reels. Never before has he admitted anything like this regarding her company. It certainly supports what has been running through her mind recently; there is something more between them. Something beyond their student and instructor relationship.

"Well, I'm flattered that you're concerned with whether I'm getting enough food and recreation to balance out my work. If I didn't know better, I'd say you cared."

And of course she ruins it. Sometimes she wonders what spirit possesses her brain, making her say things that were entirely inappropriate when she gets nervous.

Before he can reply (but not before she notices his skin coloring slightly), she clears her throat and hands over her PADD. "I organized my notes while you were gone. I hope this won't be frustrating for Starfleet, but everything we try seems to reach a dead end. The only thing we know is that the communication doesn't originate from any carbon-based life forms in the Federation's database."

Spock looks at her. "There are times that only through a process of eliminating what something is not, makes clear what something actually is."

"I hope that this is one of those times."

"Your hard work in eliminating possible carbon-based life forms will be immensely helpful to Starfleet. You must know that, Nyota." He pauses. "And to me as well."

She knows she's grinning from ear to ear as she pulls the strap of her bag over her shoulder and fluffs her long, loose hair until it falls freely down her back. She straightens out her skirt and regards Spock. "Believe me, I am more than happy to help you, in whatever capacity you need."

She urges herself to shut up. Now. Five minutes ago. As soon as possible. She sounds like a simpering little girl. And the last thing Spock would ever want is a simpering girl hanging all over him.

But as she regards him, she notices his skin still has a deeper olive color than normal: certainly not anywhere as green as Gaila's, but a slightly more intense hue than his usual tint.

Perhaps she does have an effect on him.

She almost reaches out to him, but she stops herself. She wants to touch him, even if it is just to shake his hand, but that would not be right. Touching a Vulcan, even a half-Vulcan such as Spock, is different from touching a human. He might sense things about her regarding her feelings for him.

Although that might not necessarily be a bad thing.

She stops herself and shakes her head. "All right. I'm off. If you need to ask me anything, don't hesitate to—"

"Would you like some company?"

She blinks. "Ex-excuse me?"

"If you would permit me, I can walk you back to your apartment. I have been thinking that perhaps some air might do both of us some good."

Nyota shrugs and slowly shakes her head, surprised at the request. "Uh, sure." It sounds more like a question rather than a definitive reply.

They walk out of the building and onto the campus grounds. There are other cadets and instructors milling about, but they pay no mind to the two colleagues moving together, falling into easy conversation.

"Can I ask a question?"

He nods. "You may."

There is a moment's hesitation, but a sly grin appears on her face. "What do you do for fun?"

For two steps, his gait falters. He recovers quickly. "For fun?"

"Odd. I think there's an echo out here." She has no idea where this teasing, flirting woman is coming from. She would greatly appreciate it if she would stop.

_Or, perhaps not._

Spock presses on with his hands behind his back. "'Fun' implies a state of mind that would trigger a feeling humans would define as contentment or happiness. It is a different experience for Vulcans, of course."

"Spock, 'fun' is only a word in any language. Earth, Andorian, Tellarite—"

"Surprising, that you mention the latter. They are a rather… _illogical_ species."

"Their race is a founding member of the Federation. But I digress. Fun can signify a whole range of things, whatever activity or thing you enjoy doing, and yes," she says with a snicker, stopping him from interrupting her with another analysis about the emotions involved in enjoying something, "you can feel joy. I know Vulcans feel emotions too, same as humans. Probably even more powerfully than us, correct?"

"You are accurate in your assessment, Nyota." His voice is still steady and calm.

She shrugs, maintaining her casual manner. "The study of any language system involves understanding the culture, first and foremost. And as Vulcan is a founding member of the Federation, it's imperative to know as much as possible about your world, not only to understand how you communicate but—"

Here, she stops. How to phrase this, so as to not reveal too much?

For now, at least.

"But to avoid any misunderstandings between us."

"Misunderstandings?"

"Well, you wouldn't want to apply Klingon enunciation patterns, complete with corresponding body language, when speaking Vulcan, would you?"

"To do so would be illogical."

"Exactly. An understanding of other cultures is necessary for linguists. Only then can you find the commonalities and variants that assist our understanding of other races." She keeps her voice light. Despite the almost analytical discussion, Nyota rather likes talking about things such as language with a casual air. "For example, let's return to my original question. I want to know what you do with your time when you are not at work. I define this as fun. You may have a different term to describe it, and no doubt it is far more elegant and logical than ours. But the meaning is similar. Ultimately, both of us find a way to come together, despite our cultural and linguistic differences."

He ponders this, finally nodding. "Indeed. The idea of finding common ground among various species does fascinate me, as you are well aware." Nyota can hear a tinge of amusement in his otherwise even tone.

"So, let me ask you again; what things do you enjoy to do that don't involve your duties here at Starfleet?"

"I enjoy standard tri-dimensional chess. Besides our music, it is the one recreational activity that puts our minds in a state similar to Vulcan meditation. Which is, for us, enjoyable." His voice increases in volume; it is a faint shift, but Nyota recognizes it as pride. Spock's mouth slides up a little bit to the right side of his face. "I admit my talents give me much satisfaction. After all, I am Grandmaster of the Federation's Three Dimensional Chess Organization."

She smiles broadly, loving the fact that he can still be cocky about something. In the back of her mind, she fancies he might be trying to impress her.

"Do you prefer the 4x4x3 field or the 8x8x3?"

He stops walking. "I realize that you are proficient in Vulcan and possess familiarity with our race, but I was not aware of your knowledge of our recreational activities."

Nyota approaches him, careful not to invade his space, but standing closer to him than she has ever dared. Hiding her attraction to him grows harder for her, mostly because she is dying to know if there is anything to her suspicions that he could possibly be attracted to her as well. "Like I said before, I love doing research. I figured I might look into Vulcan chess. It's important to you, something you're talented at." Her voice is lower and deeper than before. "I wouldn't mind if you taught me how to play some time."

He blinks, and then he bows his head. "It would be my pleasure."

Her smile softens. "Besides, it would give us something to talk about that doesn't involve alien languages and you asking for my help all the time." She broadens her grin, hoping that he does not take offense to her little joke, because it should be obvious that she doesn't mind helping him; after all, it is her job.

His eyebrows shoot straight upward. "I know that you possess an extraordinary aptitude for xenolinguistics, hence leading you to feel a deep affection toward the subject, but I was unaware that you were tiring of talking about it. Additionally, it is not necessary to do research regarding Vulcans in order to converse with me."

She shuts her eyes. Yes, she is tired of beating around the bush.

Nyota feels the tiniest bit exasperated that she will have to spell it out for him, and yes, she already knew that that was a possibility. But she also feels charmed by his apparent obtuseness in regards to matters of the heart.

As the saying goes, she will simply have to cowboy up and take the initiative.

"Spock, I _want_…"

It is much easier to think than to do.

"Are you alright?" he asks; she fancies she can hear the worry in his voice, as subtle as he allows it to be.

"D-dinner." She finishes her thought as dignified as she can. "Dinner. Tonight. Because I'm hungry. Would you like to join me?"

"Dinner?" he asks, his voice smooth, but softer than normal. "This is a most unusual request, Nyota." He finishes speaking with a light tone, his voice lifting up slightly as he says her name.

She strains her brain, looking for some reason that does not betray herself.

"Y-yes, I know it's unusual. I only mean as colleagues, of course. We can simply dine together, right? Can't we—"

_Go on a date?_

"Simply sit down at a restaurant and just—"

_Make out?_

"Talk?"

Spock waits a beat before answering. "It is not unusual for Captain Pike to take members of his own crew out for meals. Additionally, I have witnessed other instructors inviting their aides to dinner as a demonstration of their gratitude for their work. If we dine together tonight, would that be a sufficient demonstration of my gratitude for the work you have accomplished today?"

Nyota laughs; his matter-of-fact attitude about dining with her as a show of gratitude beguiles her. Yes, she blames this on her attraction to the man, but he wouldn't be Spock without some intellectual dissection of customs humans take for granted.

"Seriously, you don't have to. You don't have to use your credits on me. We can go Dutch… meaning we can split the bill," she adds when his face registers confusion.

"Vulcans do not express appreciation to another party regardless of whether the other party has performed admirably and has produced the highest quality of work. I understand, though, that this is acceptable behavior among humans. Gifts to demonstrate that one feels gratitude toward the other for their time and efforts. As I am also part human, it is logical that I explore this custom."

She cannot help it; she raises her eyebrow at him. "Treating me to dinner with me is logical, then?"

It tickles Nyota that Spock rationalizes dinner with her in this manner. Not that she'll argue with him. If it means she gets to spend more time with him, then she's all for it.

"It is. And, as you are my aide, your health remains my concern."

"My health?" She shakes her head and waves her extended finger in front of him. "Look, I can take care of myself. I don't need a man to force me to eat, especially when I'm working." She hears the slight twinge of exasperation in her voice; the last thing she wants him to think of her is that she's some wilting flower that needs to be tended to by others. After all, she's still looking for areas in the department where she can excel. What good will it do to have Spock think she's weak? Especially if she has to ask him for references in the future.

And if that's what he thinks about her, there wasn't much hope for them after all. Spock would not want someone he thinks of as weak…

_Or, you know, someone who's a student._ She wants to kick herself again.

"I have no doubt that you can take care of yourself. But, for tonight, I would ask that you allow me to not only show my appreciation for your work, but to provide nourishment for you, as you have allowed yourself to be deprived of it."

She opens her mouth to reply that, no thank you, she appreciates his offer to pay for her meal, but—

"You have deprived yourself of food because of a job that I tasked you with, Nyota," he says, his voice washing over her like a warm wave of sound. "Allow me to do this for you. I believe the appropriate word humans would apply to this situation is 'please'."

With that, she feels her insides melt. Nyota nods and she never lets her smile falter. "Very well then, Commander. Lead the way."

********


	3. part three

**A/N:** Warning for language... because Gaila's got a mouth on her. I must give a huge thank you to **mrstater** for her amazing beta-work and suggestions. And thank you, thank you, thank you to all the readers who have favorited, alerted and reviewed this story. I've been swamped recently and I'm pathetically behind in replies. I'm so sorry! I hope I'll be able to respond to all of you when I get the chance. I really appreciate the feedback and the response to this work.

Spock playing the Vulcan lyre/harp/lute comes from the second episode of the original series, Charlie X. If you've never seen the episode before, and you thought Spock/Uhura was something cool that JJ Abrams pulled out of the air, well, take a look at this scene from that episode (it's available on Youtube). It's really cool that there was a foundation laid for Spock/Uhura as early as the first season way back in 1966.

Also, Commander Kyle is an actual TOS character, who actually shows up in The Wrath of Kahn; I needed a communications officer, so I promoted him to commander by 2258. And Talos IV is the planet featured in the great TOS two-part episode, "The Menagerie", with the uber-cranial aliens that attempted to imprison Captain Pike and later assisted him.

* * *

**Part Three: Dinner, Discussion, and Drinking**

One dinner leads to several more over the next few weeks.

Nyota convinces herself it's only a matter of convenience that they share a few meals. After all, when two colleagues work together throughout the day, and those days turn into evenings, they naturally get hungry.

Therefore, it is only logical for them to dine together.

And during these dinners, they talk. About many things. Mostly professional matters, although a couple of times, Nyota senses both of them wanting to probe further. They do not; however, they do engage in spirited discussions regarding alien cultures.

One such conversation occurs after a long day of translating old Tellarite texts.  

"I would like to note," Nyota says, playfully gesturing with her finger for emphasis, "that it was _I_ who encouraged expanding the unit on ancient Tellarite folklore." She grins, clearly happy with herself. "Not even Ambassador Gav could find anything to complain about when Commander Patel informed him." She pops a piece of ginger-glazed tofu into her mouth and chews, close-lipped and smiling.

"Not an insignificant event," Spock replies, "as it is customary for Tellarites to begin any interaction with another species with a series of complaints and arguments, regardless of whether their logic is sound."

"Spock, I get that Vulcans don't understand Tellarites, but—"

"I do not wish to interrupt you; however, I must make a clarification. Vulcans do understand Tellarites. We deviate from them when they refuse to adopt logical coherence when they communicate with other beings."

"But there _is_ coherence." Nyota surprises herself with her emphatic tone. "You only have to respond with modulated insults or complaints that are less than or equal to what the Tellarites begin with. Subjective? Sure, but you have to gauge your own emotions when you first meet them. You have to defer to them first and let them take the lead in introductions before you can respond appropriately."

Nyota laughs as she regards his expression. His face is set, his fingers are tented and the tips rest in front of his chin. But his mouth is loose, and not at all tight or angry. She knows he likes it when she spars with him about linguistics, that it satisfies him to have educated disagreements with her. He respects her positions because he respects her expertise in xenolinguistics.

This conversation takes place during their third dinner together at a nice Asian restaurant in downtown San Francisco, one not usually frequented by other Academy personnel. Every time they go on one of their evening excursions — A_s they are certainly not dates… absolutely not. Right, Nyota?_ — they go further and further away from the campus. They never say why, although she is sure they both want to avoid the appearance of impropriety or that Spock favors her above all other students.

And yet, the dinners continue.

This evening, they dine at an establishment Nyota swears serves the best lentil samosas, githeri, and chai, since—

"Well, since my aunt in Koyo." She lifts her mug of warm chai; Spock does the same. "Cheers, Commander." Her lips swoop up at the same times as his.

They enjoy their meal, Nyota guiding him through the menu filled with familiar dishes from her childhood. Once again, their conversation is easy and intelligent. She laughs with him when he insists, in his own subdued yet dogged way, that he is right about the origin of an obscure phonetic root of an ancient Andorian dialect no longer in use, and that Commander Patel, at times, does not quite know when he has lost.

Nyota chortles loudly as Spock lifts his eyebrow.

"You know, people should learn before arguing with you. It's nearly impossible to win." She smirks before she takes another drink.

Spock eyes her curiously. "And yet, you do not hesitate to voice your disagreement with me when you feel my position is incorrect."

She sets her mug down, right next to her glass of Vulcan port. Nyota does feel lightheaded; she is certain that it is the result of some combination of the alcohol in her system and being around Spock. She hates that she has, just this once, mismanaged her beverage consumption around him, not that she lets him see her mentally chiding herself. She maintains her steady countenance, never letting her smile falter. "Well, I did say _nearly_ impossible. I like that I can prove you wrong. Every once in a while."

A close-mouthed grin ghosts across his face. "I would say seventy percent of the time we engage in adversarial discussions, you succeed in defending your point and convince me of your logic."

Her eyebrow flies up. "And what of the remaining thirty percent?"

His head tilts slightly to the right and he brings his cup up off the table. "It merely represents more opportunities for you to continue to convince me of your postulations."

Nyota bites her lip; maybe the port has gone to her head, but she swears on her old childhood home that Spock is flirting with her, with comments such as that. She wants to push further.

"Even if we never argue and you agree with me one-hundred percent of the time, I'll continue to speak my mind. Either to you or to anyone else."

He sets down his mug and his own lips push out quickly, as if about to break open into a smile but pulls back before it can let the emotion out. "I have no doubt that you will. You should never prevent yourself from asserting your position in a given matter. The superior officer may agree or disagree with you, but the officer would most certainly benefit from your expertise."

"Short of outright mutiny," Nyota says, smirking. She is making a joke, a small one. A pitiable attempt at humor. Spock probably will miss the tone that she intends, but... well, she still feels that blasted wine!

"You must know when to back down and defer to the superior officer, true. But you should not lose your willingness to assert yourself. That is a quality needed in all Starfleet personnel, and one that the Academy should strive to produce. Captain Pike believes this to be true, and I happen to agree with him."

She nods, smiling. "Even if you vehemently disagree with the other person?"

"Yes. Even if I vehemently disagree with the other person."

Her eyes turn down to the table, spying the dessert that was just placed in front of her: mango ice cream, garnished with a pineapple and rum sauce and groundnuts. There is no dessert in front of Spock, as sweet dishes are not something Vulcans particularly enjoy. As she scoops a small bite with her spoon, Nyota again turns her eyes toward him. Nervously shaking her foot against the single leg bolting the table to the floor, she musters all her courage to ask her question.

"What… was your childhood like on Vulcan?"

She slows her moving foot, gently rubbing the table leg. The movement does little to calm her. Spock stills for a second; she thinks she has finally overstepped a line. Perhaps she has wrecked the moment between them, their relationship, whatever that is, now tarnished—

"I was not expecting you to ask this question."

Her foot wiggles again and he coughs to clear his throat. She wants to diminish, to crawl away because she let the delicious wine and the dinner and the thinking that he was possibly flirting with her go straight to her head, and now she has ruined it.

_This is awkward. Beyond awkward._

"I'm sorry. Chalk it up to bad manners. It's something I've been curious about, and the things I've read about your world have my mind wondering… forget it. You don't have to say anything."

To her surprise, he raises his hand. She stops talking. His face remains calm, but not cold. She watches the right corner of his mouth rise up slightly, his cheek crinkling the smallest amount.

It is a smile, or at least the Vulcan equivalent of an amused expression.

"I do not mind that you ask, Nyota, but there are many things integral to my upbringing that are not commonly discussed outside Vulcan society."

She says nothing so he may continue.

"However," he says with a couple of slow blinks, "as a xenolinguist who expresses an interest in other worlds, I understand your curiosity about other cultures. I told you that I am willing to teach you about my society. I assume that you are still interested, hence your inquiry about my childhood."

She nods. "Very much so." She sits straight up and moves her dessert to the side. Nyota folds her hands together; she looks like the very picture of patient listening. Her foot, though, continues to wiggle slowly against the table leg. And Spock's brow creases as if he can feel it move.

She drains her wineglass, feeling the heady buzz from the alcohol go straight to her head. After she does so, she wants to kick herself; why drink more when she's already buzzing?

_Too late for that, genius._

"Vulcan childhood is not dissimilar to the childhood of humans. We play games, we are educated in the sciences and we are encouraged to develop creative pursuits. For example, I was trained on the Vulcan lyre a few years after I was born." 

"I didn't know that." The thought that Spock has a musical side to him startles Nyota. It is one more thing that they have in common.

Why not expand on that further?

"I wouldn't mind hearing you play sometime. Perhaps, I can learn some Vulcan songs as well and sing along with you."

His mouth relaxes. "Perhaps someday." His brow straightens out and he continues his discussion. "Vulcans do form bonds with their peers. They have friends with whom they share similar interests and engage in similar activities."

She leans forward. His use of the generic pronoun tweaks her discerning ears. It implies that he has set himself apart from the rest of his kind. "What about you? Do you have friends back on Vulcan?"

There is silence, and Spock's eyes float away from hers. It is very quick, but it does not escape her notice. As does his nostrils flaring a minute amount.

"I did not and I do not. Vulcans, children and adults, can be _selective_ in choosing their associates. In my case, they did not associate with me, due to my disadvantage."

Nyota squints, not quite sure what he means. "What do you mean, 'your disadvantage'—?"

It dawns on her before she can finish her sentence.

"Your human mother?" She asks the question, but she already knows the answer. Her heart hurts, thinking that he must have been so isolated as a child.

"My _human_ mother." Spock repeats her words, but his tone simmers with restrained rage. He swallows before he allows himself to speak again. "I am ashamed to say that I allowed my peers to elicit an emotional response from me when they insulted her. I regret to say I was involved in a small number of physical altercations with other Vulcan adolescents."

"That's horrible, Spock."

"Yes. It was unwise for me to have reacted in the manner that I did. It happened only twice during my adolescence," he clarifies. "My mother and her marriage to my father were their preferred targets."

"N-no. I didn't mean your, um... your emotional and physical responses." Nyota thinks about how she should reply before she bungles this further. "It's understandable that you were angry at the kids who taunted you."

Spock bows his head once, blinking slowly at the same time. "It was a natural human response," he says dispassionately. "I have always been plagued with a rather impulsive nature, one uncommon to Vulcans in general."

She cannot help but arch her eyebrow at this. "Really?"

"I cannot lie. I underwent my _kahs-wan_ before my scheduled time. I did not tell my mother or my father about this undertaking. The fact that I began the test prematurely, even if it was merely days, was considered an act of rebellion by the elders. After I completed the test, I found myself drawn to the path to pure logic. It was something that intrigued me, even from a very early age."

Nyota is quite confused. "The path to pure logic?"

"The _kahs-wan_ test of survival commences the journey Vulcans take to purge all vestigial emotions, through the ritual known as the _kolinahr_." 

Mentally noting that she look up _kahs-wan_ later tonight, Nyota fixates on his last words. "To live a life without emotion?" She nearly forgets herself and almost reaches out to touch his hand. But she stops before making contact. "I know we should strive to understand other races and their cultures, to not interfere with their development. But to choose a life without emotion… wow!" she says, her voice like a whisper. "I couldn't do that."

"Nor could I. And even when the Vulcan Science Academy granted to me acceptance into their program, despite my _disadvantage_," he says, practically spitting out the word in his calm manner, "I declined and accepted the opportunity to train at Starfleet Academy. At the time, I believed this decision would give to me the chance to find balance between Vulcan logic and human emotion. I admit, too, that declining the acceptance was another act of rebellion on my part."

"It was?"

The barest hint of a grin appears on Spock's face, before he pulls it back. "There was satisfaction in telling them no when they made it clear they were accepting me despite the fact that I am half-human. No Vulcan has ever declined acceptance at the Vulcan Science Academy."

"Except for you."

His head tilts slightly to the right, but his face remains impassive. "It appears so."

Nyota fights back a smile, but it blossoms on her face regardless of her efforts. This thought makes her happy. Had he chosen differently, she would not have sat through his lectures. She would not have become his aide. And she would not be here, sitting across a small table from him in a rather intimate setting.

But Nyota does not focus on this at the moment. Instead, she remembers that he came within a hairsbreadth of choosing to rid himself of all feeling. The most human part of himself.

_Including love_.

"I-I still can't fathom living without emotions, Spock. I'm sorry if that tarnishes whatever respect you have for me, but to live without all the good emotions — happiness, joy, amusement, pleasure, _love_ — I wouldn't give up the deepest sorrow if it meant I'd never feel those things again." She rambles, but she does not stop. She is certain that it is the alcohol making her lips so loose, but it feels important to say these things to him. "It makes me sad to hear you contemplate such a life. Although, if you experienced prejudice as a child for being part human and for feeling things like a human being can, I can see why it wouldn't be far from your mind."

Once again, Spock nods, and his mouth curves upward in a small, subtle smile. "You are astute as always, Nyota. That you cannot reconcile living without emotions does not lessen my respect for you. It…" He pauses to inhale. "It is, in actuality, not a solution that many Vulcans choose. Most of us learn to live with our feelings intact. As these emotions can be strong, even overwhelming at times, we find that meditation provides a way to control them without eliminating them."

She runs her finger along the lip of her wineglass, absorbing what Spock has said. Her foot matches the motions of her finger, slow swirl for slow swirl. It is official; Vulcan wine is definitely more intoxicating to humans than wines produced on Earth.

And, in the haze of her intoxication, where nothing she says is too silly or stupid, she decides that she should ask her next question. So she opens her mouth, about to say it, when—

"Nyota, I think it only wise to inform you that your foot has been touching my leg throughout our conversation."

She jerks it back like he had just set it on fire. She's mortified; mentally, she swears in both Klingon and Andorian — a combination of the blunt and the creative.

"I'm so sorry." Her words blur together as they come out in a nervous rush.

"There is no reason for you to apologize. You have done nothing wrong."

Her last question dissolves on her tongue, unasked. Although she is certain she will be doing some research tonight.

* * *

Nyota knows the only way to convince Gaila to help her with research after a night of intermediate drinking is to find an interesting enough topic to engage her.

"Vulcan sex." She offers a couple of fifty-year-old books to her roommate's flexing hands. She would have said, "Vulcan mating customs," but she is talking to Gaila, so a little bluntness can be excused.

Plus, Nyota still feels the effects of Vulcan wine mixing with the beer Gaila shoved into her hands as soon as she returned from dinner.

"Look, find, and tell me what you think," she tells the Orion woman.

"Gimme!" Gaila grabs them and flips the top book open to start reading.

"There's practically next to nothing about Vulcan sex and Vulcan mating habits," Nyota says as matter-of-factly as she can manage. "Which, you think for the first alien culture that we encountered, there'd be something on them, right?"

"Well, it's got to happen, we know that. They may not fuck like bunnies, but there're billions and billions of them, and as far as I can tell, they're not capable of spontaneous regeneration."

Nyota nods at the book Gaila's holding in her lap. "That's the only book in our libraries that's translated from the original Vulcan that even mentions anything about their mating."

"And I think I found the only section in the entire text that brings it up." Gaila wrinkles her face and pinches a couple of pages together to show Nyota how small the section is. The Orion returns to reading as Nyota focuses on her PADD, scanning any database that might have more answers.

"Bullshit!"

Gaila's exclamation makes Nyota jump.

"Seven _years_?" Her green face screws up in disbelief. "I don't care how logical a race can be. Seven years without getting laid is just stupid."

"So says the girl who can barely go seven days without sex."

Gaila glares at her. "Just so you know, it's been two weeks since I've gotten any." 

Nyota cocks her eyebrow; she knows better.

"Fine, two weeks since I've gotten any _in our room_. Satisfied?" she says, giving up after a minute.

"Are you?" Nyota asks, smirking when Gaila flashes her an obscene gesture. "I know you and Berkeley have been finding creative locations for your little escapades."

"Well, at least I know both of us have been getting more than your Commander Virgin over here. Come on! Seven _years_?"

"I mean it, Gaila. Can it with the teasing. Besides," Nyota says, slumping against the wall at the head of her bed, "we don't know if Spock's a… a virgin." She can barely say it, much less think it, without her skin growing warm. "And even if he is, that's not so terrible, is it?"

"Not terrible, per say. More sad, really—" Gaila shrugs. She's still reading the book. "Although can you imagine what sex would be like after that long?" She whistles.

Nyota breathes out. She looks at the ceiling, her PADD scrolling through anything it can find. She shuts her eyes and can feel the room moving in circles behind her eyelids… turning… and turning very slowly. Not enough to make her feel sick, but enough so she knows she indulged far too much.

"What am I doing?"

"Looking up tawdry information about Vulcans so you can seduce your professor?"

Nyota grunts and shoves her PADD off of her lap and onto her bed "I'm drunk researching Vulcan sex!" She rubs her face and lets her hands fall onto her sheets, unable to believe how low she's fallen. "I'm crazy, aren't I? And _why_ are you encouraging me?" She tosses a pillow at Gaila, who deflects it effortlessly.

"Because it's nice to see that you, of all people, can come unhinged over a man." Gaila shuts her book and sits upright on her bed. "As long as I've known you, you've been this total Zen Queen when it comes to the opposite sex."

"What do you mean? I've dated. I've had relationships before. I've even had my share of one night stands." 

"_One_ one night stand, Nyota."

"Yes, and that was plenty."

Gaila rolls her eyes. "Please. In this day and age, that makes you a goddess of chastity. Look, you don't suffer stupid savages who're determined to move at Warp Ten after talking to you at a bar. You don't date casually. You don't respond to the standard pick-up line from your ordinary cadet meathead."

"I'm selective." 

"Clearly. You're not like some of the girls around here. You're definitely not like me. So, excuse me if I'm encouraging this odd behavior coming from you, Nyota Upenda Uhura, but I'm just glad to get this confirmation that you _are_ a sexual being. One-hundred percent."

Nyota shuts her eyes. She curses the Orion's fixation on all things physical, as well as her roommate's astute observations. "I need a distraction. Not just from work, but from Spock." She wiggles her hands in front of her, moving them at the same time. "Things are getting too muddled at the lab with him, and now these dinners—"

"How many times have you gone out with him?"

Nyota glares at Gaila. "First, we don't 'go out', like on a date. And I think we've eaten out about six or seven times or so the last couple of weeks—"

_Ten, actually. But it's not like you're counting, right?_

"These are intellectual exercises too." She ignores the mental conversation she is having with herself. "We talk about language and other cultures. Like, for example, tonight. We talked about Vulcan adolescence and how it was similar and different from ours—"

She ignores Gaila's fake yawning.

"—from an purely intellectual viewpoint."

"Lovely," her roommate drawls.

"It was lovely, insightful and, like I said, solely for my own understanding of Vulcan culture… and I know all five terms for 'bullshit' in Orion. Don't think by coughing you're covering anything up!" She points a stern finger to her roommate, who was clearly about to fake clearing her throat.

"Okay, okay." Gaila relents and settles back on her bed. "So you talked business with Commander Spock, then?" 

"Yes, but it's confusing for me. At times, I think there's a possibility that he's flirting with me—"

"How in the world does a Vulcan flirt with someone? Tell them they've never seen logic as sexy as _their_ logic? Or that they've got this complex algorithm to solve in their pants? That it's true what everyone says about big ears?"

"I'm not dignifying any of those with a response," Nyota says flatly. "But work and whatever my feelings are for Spock are getting muddled up together. I need a separation between the two, right? I need some distance."

"Yeah. Maybe you do."

"Well then," Nyota nods with finality, "I'm definitely going to apply to be Commander Kyle's aide in the Advanced Acoustical Engineering Department."

Gaila's face puckers. "He's definitely not as good looking as Spock, if, you know, one thinks Spock's good-looking. He's a bit more… _colorful_, though."

Nyota exhales through her nose. Gaila can be irksome, but she is right; Commander Kyle is brilliant and eccentric. She blames his long hours experimenting with sound and physics and… well, that could rattle a person's brain a bit.

There are also those rumors about what he and the rest of the crew of the _SS Columbia_ saw on Talos IV, and that it affected them in odd ways.

Despite whatever is going on with Commander Kyle's head, working as an Advanced Acoustical Engineering aide would round out her credentials nicely. Six months as Spock's aide and six months with Commander Kyle, Nyota thinks with these experiences under her belt, she'll have her pick of ships when the time comes.

She has already narrowed her preferred post-Academy assignments down to four starships. Her proficiency in translations, phonology and acoustical engineering would make her a perfect fit for her top choice--

Gaila snaps her fingers, interrupting her train of thought. "Were you picturing Commander Spock naked again?"

Nyota flashes Gaila an exasperated expression and grits her teeth. She is becoming far too predictable in her thoughts, in her chosen field, in the men she chooses to be attracted to.

Enough is enough.

"You said Berkeley's got a friend, right?" There is the slightest slur in her voice; damn that intoxicating Vulcan port!

The Orion jumps forward; she is really excited. "Are you finally giving me permission to set up that double date I've been dying to arrange? Seriously, I think you and Carver'll hit it off."

"Yes, but so help me I will bring a phaser and set it to 'Castrate' if necessary if he tries any funny business."

Gaila flaps her hand in front of her dismissively. "John Carver? Please! He's got that cerebral thing that you're totally drawn to. But without the ears and the eyebrows. You'll just have to make do with a plain ol' human boy." She giggles as Nyota whacks her in the head with another pillow.

********


	4. part four

**A/N:** A big thank you to **mrstater** for her beta-work and suggestions. She's been a tremendous help. In my research and in listening to the audiobook, I have not run across any rules regarding Orion aliens or their surnames. Thus, I have given Gaila the surname A'baa'ntan. If anyone knows of other resources for alien names in the Star Trek universe, I'd love links to them.

Just in case anyone was wondering, if the internet has not failed me, I believe _Kobayashi Maru_ translates into "little wooden ship".

* * *

**Part Four: The Most Illogical Conclusions**

A shrill whistle cuts through the air.

Nyota refuses to stop walking, as she is intent on ignoring the whistler. The pest. The bane of her existence. She rues the day she first met him, more than two years ago.

"Hey! Cadet Unicorn."

James T. Kirk. Resident asshole.

He now calls her a variety of different names, since she refuses to tell him hers. And, of course, he only chooses the most vexing ones. Animals and popular cultural figures from the past are his favorites to use. The month he had insisted on calling her Cadet Strawberry Shortcake tested her patience in many ways.

_Many ways._

It also made her realize to not underestimate the idiot — he knows how to make connections at the Academy. How else could anyone explain the message unit in her apartment when it spoke out loud, "_You have reached Cadet Strawberry Shortcake_..."? It did not matter what computer expert (and highly amused) Gaila did to try to override the recording; somehow, Jim Kirk's resources circumvented all of her efforts.

The sound of him trying to catch up only makes Nyota walk faster.

"Jeeze… slow down!"

"Don't call me Unicorn!" She continues walking without missing a beat.

"Tell me your first name, and I promise I'll quit making up new ones."

She snorts and glares at him; Kirk takes the opportunity to wink at her.

"What do you want, Kirk? I've got places to be and—"

"Hot command-track cadets to do?"

"I'm not dignifying that with a response." She keeps her tone brusque, even as she tries to stifle a grin. How someone can be infuriating and amusing at the same time Nyota does not know. "Make it quick."

"Man, you are nothing but business, aren't you, Unicorn?"

She stops and pivots sharply, nearly jabbing his eye out with an angry finger. "Say that name one more time, and I'll show you what I've been working on in combat training! Namely sensitive areas on male bodies." Her eyes glare menacingly at his crotch, and then back up at his face.

He throws his hands up in the air, his left still holding a slim PADD. "Okay! Uncle, uncle!" he exclaims, smirking. "I just wanted to ask a favor of one of the best and brightest cadets the Academy has to offer."

She retracts her hand, and looks at him, slightly mollified. "Well, I appreciate the recognition. That I _am_ one of the best cadets here."

Jim holds his hand out toward a shady spot underneath a tree. "After you, Uhura."

She rolls her eyes, but makes for the shade. "Hm… you are desperate to ask me for help, or you wouldn't be using my real name." She stands still in the middle of the cool spot and crosses her arms. "Alright, now that you've got my attention, speak."

Jim regards her for a couple of seconds; she knows he's quite tempted to say something sarcastic or smarmy. But he also knows when to rein it in.

Sometimes.

"You ever heard of the _Kobayashi Maru_?"

"Of course I have. It's Starfleet's hardest simulation. And I constantly thank the powers that be that I don't have to take it since I'm not command-track." This is honest; Nyota hates losing, and the _Kobayashi Maru_ is renowned as an unbeatable program. She is glad she does not have to be put in that position.

"Well, I _am_ command-track, and I'm scheduled to take it next week. I have to get my crew together, so…"

Nyota groans. "Oh God! Are you asking me to help you save the little wooden ship?"

"As a matter of fact, I am. This is part of the test; I have to assemble my crew. I've already got my Number One, but I need a communications officer. I need the _best_ communications officer, the cream of the crop. And that means you, Tinkerbell."

This is the part of Jim Kirk that makes her head want to explode. He can simultaneously compliment her to the highest heavens _and_ find the perfect way to get under her skin.

Not in a good way, either.

She blinks rapidly. Her nostrils flare. She wills herself not to react, since that will only make it worse. Instead, she focuses on his compliment of her skills. Nyota realizes that she probably appears arrogant and smug but she can't help it; cocky bastards like Kirk bring it out in her. "And your first officer is—?"

As if on cue, a man, slightly older than both cadets, approaches them at a brisk pace, practically jogging toward them. He is out of breath and grunting.

"Goddamn rookies can't even tell which end of a damn cadaver's the ass or the head! I'll tell the both of ya right now: don't expect to make it out of your ships alive with the quality of brainpower coming out of Starfleet's Anatomy and Pathology program. Oh, how're you doin', Cadet Uhura?"

She laughs at Leonard McCoy's bluster. "I'm fine. Absolutely fine."

It would not be McCoy without a good dose of gruffness and swearing. She also likes the fact that he subtly winks at her when he calls her "Cadet Uhura." McCoy knows perfectly well that her first name is Nyota. She introduced herself to him as such the first time they met.

When she made it clear that Jim Kirk was never to know her first name, he obliged whole-heartedly. "I like havin' something over the kid!" he had said, thumbing in Kirk's direction.

Now, Jim Kirk smacks McCoy on the back and nods at Nyota. "You're looking at my hand-picked science officer, right here."

McCoy simply stares back at his friend. "What the hell're you talkin' about?"

"The _Kobayashi Maru_, Bones. You're going to be my Number One. Oh, and my science officer."

Leonard groans. "Dammit Jim, I'm a doctor, not a first officer! And I'm certainly not some damn bridgeman. I'd bungle up your whole exam!"

"You don't give yourself enough credit for everything you've got up here," Jim says, poking at McCoy's head. The older man tries to swat him away. "I need you, Bones. I need you right by my side."

Nyota can see McCoy's resolve soften; she knows he thinks the world of James Kirk, that he thinks of the younger man like a brother. Hearing that he needs McCoy to help him through this daunting simulation is all the reason the doctor needs to act as Kirk's Number One, to help Jim with whatever he will need.

It is certainly touching and it allows Nyota to see something in Jim Kirk that she never considered before. Loyalty. Unwavering loyalty and devotion to his friends.

"Yeah, yeah… I'll do it if you stop pesterin' me." McCoy grunts, but he's clearly pleased that Kirk has asked him for his help.

Jim turns to face her. "Well? I need an answer from you, O' Talented One."

McCoy cocks his eyebrow. Nyota's breath catches in her throat; it is a rather Spock-like gesture from the Southern man.

"Fine. I'll do it." She smirks. "But only because you'll need the best of the best to get through that test. I've heard no one's ever passed the _Kobayashi Maru_." 

Again, Kirk winks at her. "There's a first for everything, isn't there, Cadet Tinkerbell?"

"Shut it!"

"Would you prefer Cadet Care Bear?"

********

She finishes her work early Friday evening, as she needs to get ready for her date. She has logged in the questions that cadets have been bringing to her. She will present these questions to Spock and, together, they will go over the topics that are confusing his class.

She approaches Spock, adjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder, and hands over her PADD. He is bent over a tabletop display, touching the screen to flip through electronic images displaying scanned texts. In the other hand is a stylus, used to write down information into his small, portable logbook.

"I've finished recording my office hours, and I can only come to one—"

She hesitates, but only moments, before she gives him a small smirk.

"—_logical_ conclusion."

Spock's eyebrow arches. "And your conclusion is what?"

"There seems to be a common theme in your first-year class."

He sets his stylus down and stands upright, his hands clasped behind his back. "A common theme?" He asks a question, but his voice and tone do not change. He speaks evenly and calmly. He does not betray any signs that he is concerned about whatever Nyota will present him with.

"Yes. It appears that the cadets are confused."

"Oh? Regarding my most recent lectures, I assume."

Nyota's kind smirk melts into a warmer smile. "It's possible that it has nothing to do with your actual lectures, but more the theories themselves. Specifically, the theories regarding the evolutionary progression of Andorian dialects, in context of the survey course."

"Do you feel they are not given adequate time and consideration in my class? It is a survey course, after all, the purpose of which is to cover a broad amount of material in a short amount of time." 

"Spock, I feel everything could be given more time in your class. That's got nothing to do with your lectures. Your syllabus is structured logically and cohesively. But it's dense stuff, regardless."

He considers something for a moment. "Perhaps it is not the material or my lectures. Perhaps it is the cadets themselves. I would have expected a few standouts in this class to appear by now, and yet that does not seem to have occurred."

Nyota laughs, hoping she does not sound like she is laughing at him, but rather with him, or at least his sentiment. "I guess it's safe to say each year is different."

"You…" he starts, but he does not finish; the sound — long and softly uttered — hangs in the air between them.

"Me?" 

"Yes." Spock looks away briefly, as if thinking. He bobs his head twice, still in contemplation of something Nyota can only guess. She does not have to for long, as he speaks again. "You exhibited extraordinary aptitude a month into my class. When you were still my student."

She channels her nervousness into humor and chuckles, noticeably softer than her laughter before. "It took a month? I thought I showed my talents a week in." Trying to even out her tone, her voice, Nyota realizes she sounds coy, almost flirtatious.

She really needs to get that paperwork into Commander Kyle. The sooner, the better.

"I did notice your inquisitive nature early on. You were the only student who made consistent use of my office hours, and you never hesitated to offer your insights in class. However, it was your comparative phonemic analysis of present-day Andorian dialects and their known sub-species that convinced me of your true potential."

She can feel her heart and her brain temporarily abandon her body. But she will not let him see that. Instead, she maintains her cool visage, with just a hint of playful contention. "And here I thought I only convinced you of my skills when you tricked me with the paper that I thought _you_ had made an error on."

She can see his face tensing. Small, subtle, but still it tenses. "You are still angry about how I conducted the aide selection process? I did not mean for it to have affected you so strongly."

She shakes her head, and she grins. "Sorry. I was trying to tease… no, I'm definitely not angry about it. Or even annoyed. How can I be? I got the job, didn't I?"

Spock's mouth relaxes and his eyes seem to open to her. Nyota thinks he looks relieved. "You did. And I know that we — Commander Patel and I — made the right choice."

"So I've been a good aide?"

"Normally, I would say that there should be no need to tell you of your value to the department, but I will make an exception. You have been indispensable to my work here as an instructor. For this, I must thank you."

She bites her bottom lip. "You're welcome."

"And, more than that, you have given me an opportunity to converse about Vulcan with another. For better or for worse, I have come to appreciate our discussions about my home world."  She looks at him, slightly confused.

"For better or worse?"

"You must pardon me. I meant no offense. I meant only that I have been free to discuss the positive and negative aspects of Vulcan to you, Nyota. I appreciate you listening to both."

"It's my pleasure. After all, to love something is to know something, the good and the bad. You love Vulcan, but you also see her faults. And that's fine. That's healthy."

His eyes shift away, staring at a point just beyond her shoulders. Perhaps he does not want to make eye contact with her. "That is an interesting perspective." His gaze returns to her. "It is quite human, in fact. To love something, despite its flaws and lack of perfection."

She can see something dawn inside those dark eyes: awareness, comprehension… satisfaction? Contentment? Does it make him happy to realize this?

She suddenly feels nervous. On edge. She needs to leave, not only to get ready for her date, but because the room suddenly feels too small for the both of them, although they are inside the biggest language lab in the department.

"So, I-I guess you can take your time and look over my notes. The ones about my office hours. We can go over them, um… tomorrow?"

"Unfortunately, I cannot make plans to meet with you tomorrow, as I already have a prior engagement that I must keep. Perhaps the following day — Sunday morning, at oh-nine hundred hours — might work for both of us. Would that accommodate your schedule? Unless you are available tonight and you wish to accompany me to dinner. We could discuss the matters then."

Her heart flies up into her throat and her vocal chords chill. Never has she regretted agreeing to go on a blind date more. Instead of meeting his eyes, Nyota focuses on her hands as they grip the strap of her bag tightly. "I have a prior engagement tonight myself." She speaks rapidly, so as to not draw attention to the disappointment in her voice. "Sunday morning at oh-nine hundred is fine with me."

Spock's eyes fall to the floor. The movement is quick; if Nyota had blinked, she would have missed it.

But she did not blink. And she did not miss it.

"Very well. Sunday then." They nod and part ways. Only when she walks a few yards from the building and she takes two very deep breaths through her mouth does she begin to feel her heart slowing down to its normal, steady pace.

********

Gaila was somewhat right about the guy. John Carver is intelligent, and he does have a certain charm about him, allowing him to make witty jokes that come off as neither condescending or obtuse.

Unfortunately, for Nyota, he is a bit on the short side. She is not finding herself physically attracted to him. And there are a few times that it feels like he's trying too hard to make her laugh, that he gets slightly nervous when she looks over at him, and for some reason, that makes her tummy swoop.

And not the good kind of swoop that spending time with Spock has made her acutely aware of.

She is having fun despite these things. Perhaps she simply needs to hang out with him more and see if they might be compatible, both mentally and physically.

"So?" Gaila sidles up to Nyota in the ladies room. "What do you think?"

"He's nice and funny. But I'm not sure about the chemistry between us."

"Nyota." The Orion woman drops her voice conspiratorially. "He is totally checking out your frequencies."

"First, it's _scanning_. And second… _ew_!"

"He is, though. I'm not really surprised. You are looking great tonight!" Gaila says, apprising Nyota's choice of clothing for the date. She has taken off her black wrap earlier, revealing her black sleeveless top. Her skirt stops just above her knees, grazing the top of the sleek boots she borrowed from Gaila.

"Give the word, and I swear you'll have him eating out of your hand."

"I don't want that. I don't want a boyfriend who hangs on every word I say or puts me up on some pedestal. Besides," Nyota says, her voice barely a whisper, "he's really short."

Gaila rolls her eyes. "No surprise there. You _are_ wearing my sex boots."

"You don't actually call them that, do you?" Nyota wrinkles her face in disgust.

Her roommate continues undaunted. "What? I always manage to get some whenever I wear them. Besides, a giant would be short compared to those heels you've got on."

Nyota's voice drips with cynical caution, "I'm pretty sure that he'd be a few inches shorter than me without the stilts."

The Orion woman looks at her, hissing. "Fine. He's _shorter_ than you. Happy?"

Nyota decides to end this conversation; they've been in the bathroom long enough that the boys will be itching to send a search party to find them. The two women walk back out to rejoin their male companions.

"John, " Gaila drawls in her most provocative voice. "Did you know that Nyota's _deepest_… darkest… desire right now is—"

"_Gaila_!" She interrupts, gritting her teeth so hard they'll surely turn to dust. She cannot believe her roommate would even dare mention _that_. On a date! Surely, Gaila has more sense than that.

Or not.

"What? I was just going to say you constantly _dream_ about being assigned to the _Enterprise_ once she's mission-ready." The Orion blinks innocently and Nyota has the sudden urge to whack her for her purposeful duplicity.

John Carver sits up, excited, and addresses Nyota. "Really?"

She makes a sound, a cross between a snort and a laugh, hoping she comes across as far more nonchalant than the times she talked about the _Enterprise_ with Gaila in their dorm room. "It's my first choice for an assignment. Hopefully."

Carver whistles. "Well, I don't blame you. I'd love to be assigned to her. Who wouldn't be? The Federation's flagship for long-term exploration? That crew's going to see some amazing things."

Nyota smiles. At least she found someone else who wants the same thing. Gaila could really give a Tiberian bat about what ship she will be assigned to.

"The way I see it," says Nyota, "whomever the communications officer will be on the _Enterprise_ will have access to thousands of unknown alien species." She looks not at any of the others at the table, but at the center of the table itself. "Over half a decade's worth of first contacts and exploration. I want to be on Ground Zero for the most extensive xenolinguistics experience that has ever been attempted."

She looks back up at the others. Berkeley and Carver are smiling; Gaila looks at her with amused exasperation. This is nothing new to the Orion woman, although there is far less fawning and obsessive fixation in Nyota's demeanor.

Berkeley leans over, his voice low and conspiratorial. "I'll bet none of you've heard about who might be commanding her when she sets out." The table shakes their heads, practically in unison. Berkeley beats his palms, like a low drum roll. With a final flourish, he answers his own inquiry.

"Captain Christopher Pike. Formerly of the _USS Endeavor_."

Nyota whistles and nods approvingly. The others at the table vocalize a round of whole-hearted support. Christopher Pike is one of the best captains in Starfleet, if not the best. Bold, fearless, intelligent, dedicated — anytime his name is mentioned, one of those words pops up in people's minds. Nyota is certain of that.

If this is true, that he will be put in command of the almost flight-ready _USS Enterprise_, Nyota cannot think of a more deserving officer. The Federation's newest flagship will require a highly skilled crew and an exemplary leader when she embarks on her first mission, and Christopher Pike is the walking definition of exemplary. She has met him only once, three years ago. It was impossible not to feel intimidated in his presence.

 They are in the middle of discussing Captain Pike's last two year mission when Gaila's face falls. Her mouth hanging open, her eyes bulging out, the Orion stands still at attention. "Commander Spock."

That is all Nyota needs to hear. Trying to not choke, on air or water or saliva or her own mortification that he chose to eat dinner at the same place they chose for their double date, she shoots up and twists around, as do Berkeley and Carver.

Staring back at the table, his face unreadable — even to Nyota — is Spock. Tall, wearing his dark grey uniform, custom for Starfleet's ranked officers, he stands with perfect posture. His PADD presses against his lower torso, and his other hand, she guesses, is flat against his back. He cuts an imposing figure, particularly for the three other cadets, as they are not accustomed to his presence.

At least, not in the way Nyota is.

She waits for him to say something. Moments pass as his eyes move around the table. It would be obvious to even the most obtuse individual, much less a Vulcan, that this is a double date. Gaila and Berkeley are clearly together. The engineering cadet reaches out and touches her back, almost unconsciously.

Then, his eyes rest on John Carver. She doesn't want to believe it — or perhaps she does — but she thinks she sees his face, indeed his entire body, hardening the more he stares at Carver. The cadet is oblivious to this, which only serves to lessen Nyota's estimation of him, as unreasonable as that is.

Spock, finally, looks directly at her. His face softens. "At ease, cadets. This is a night intended for recreation, is it not? It was not my intention to cause you any distress."

All four students smile sheepishly at him. Nyota feels warmth spread through her body all the way to her face. "Commander," she says, feeling that the more formal treatment is appropriate at the moment. As his aide, she takes the lead to talk to him directly. However, the moment she opens her mouth, she cannot think of anything to say at the moment.

"Er… are you dining with anyone tonight?"

_Great question, Nyota. Next, you're going to ask him to join us, aren't you?_

_Don't give yourself any ideas!_

Spock raises his eyebrow, the slight incline of his head indicating that he is considering her question. "I am not. After we parted ways at the laboratory, I found myself desiring a meal from the region of Southeast Asia for dinner. Thus, I decided to dine at this establishment and to make good use of this time to review your log regarding the cadets' confusion with Andorian dialects."

Nyota bites her lip. "Oh. Well, if you have any questions about my work, we can discuss them now, if you want."

There is a soft cough just over her shoulder. Cadet Carver's. Apparently, her brilliant mind does not extend to tact or good manners. She completely forgets that she is on a date.

Spock glances around the table, "You should not abandon the recreational activities that you have planned for this evening. Class does not resume until Monday, and we have already made plans to meet Sunday morning. These matters can wait until then. Besides, you deserve a few nights off. A break that will allow your mind to rest so you can approach work with a renewed energy."

He says these things and he looks at her. His eyes are steady, warm and open, and his mouth is set in a line, pulled slightly to the right side of his face. The overall expression is more gentle than his typical appearance. No one would probably notice the difference, but for Nyota, there is an intriguing depth to him that belies his impassive words.

"Don't worry, Commander. I'll take good care of her tonight."

She turns slowly, a smile frozen on her face, and looks at a well meaning, but loose-lipped John Carver. Why the hell did he think that was a good idea? No cadet should talk to a senior officer with such an informal attitude—

Well, that doesn't apply to her interactions with Spock. But those are different. She spends a lot of time with the commander, and there is a sort of familiarity between them, something that goes beyond the typical cadet-instructor candor.

_Stop it, Nyota._

Regardless, Carver needs to watch his mouth and his actions around Commander Spock, even if the conversation takes place off campus. And inserting himself in a discussion between two people without invitation is just…

Well, it's rude.

Nyota turns back. Her eyes catch Spock's and there is a moment, so quick and fleeting that she feels like she is imagining it. But it gives her a thrill of excitement because she thinks she sees something ripple in the Vulcan's eyes, something altogether human in its origin.

_Anger?_

_No… that's too strong. He looked at me, and then at Carver and felt…_

_Jealousy?_

This is wishful thinking. The moment passes. Nyota cannot even be sure whether it existed. Suddenly, Spock aims his sight at John Carver. The Vulcan eyes him without any of the softness that he possessed when he spoke to her. His face becomes cold and stony.

"What is your name, cadet?" There is a definite chill to Spock's tone.

Carver is surprised to be addressed in this matter, but he manages to respond. "Uh… John Carver, sir."

"Cadet Carver, I do not recognize you from the Xenolinguistics Department; therefore, I can only deduce that xenolinguistics is not your major."

"No sir. I'm operations-track, specializing in engineering. Currently, I'm focusing on transporter theory."

"Engineering." Spock nods, his eyes drifting to the right. "And transporter theory. Commander Cleary is a thorough instructor. And quite an interesting individual."

"He is, sir."

"Several of my peers found him to be difficult. Has this been the case with you and your class?"

Carver awkwardly makes a sound of agreement as he shrugs his shoulders. "His class is _very_ difficult. I have to work extra hard to stay in the top ten percent."

"Fascinating." Spock arches one eyebrow, his voice edgier and less calm than normal. "When I took the course, I needed to ask the commander for _extra_ assignments." His mouth gives only the barest hint of a slight smirk — an almost blink-and-you'll-miss-it smirk. "The established coursework presented little challenge for me. He complied, I remember, rather enthusiastically to my request."

Nyota's eyes, wide like circles before, now grow bigger. Spock does not brag; arrogance is not something Vulcans indulge, at least what humans see as arrogance. But listening to him presently, she thinks what he is doing is bragging. But that is impossible.

_Is it? He is half-human._

"Uh... well, I don't doubt it, sir," Carver says, slightly flummoxed. "You're one of the Academy's best."

"Indeed. I have been told that I am among the Academy's most distinguished graduates on more than one occasion."

Behind her, she can hear something that sounds oddly like a low whistle. Turning around, she sees Gaila's face puckered. She rolls her eyes at her roommate.

Spock looks back past Nyota's shoulders, the tension in his face retreating. "Cadet A'baa'ntan," he says, calmly addressing Gaila by her surname. "Were you aware that you have been assigned to simulation programs starting next week?"

Gaila is surprised that he is addressing her. "Oh! Uh… actually, I was. Sir."

The Vulcan nods. "You will be assisting with running, recording, and monitoring the _Kobayashi Maru_ simulation. There is one scheduled for the upcoming Wednesday."

Nyota knows this is Kirk's simulation; what she is unaware of is Spock's role in it. To her ears, it sounds as if the commander is in charge of it. In the middle of her thoughts, Gaila makes a sound of acknowledgment.

"Yes. I'm supposed to help with the programming."

"We should meet then as you have not yet dealt with the _Kobayashi Maru_ and are perhaps unaware of its parameters. I will provide to you information regarding the simulations you will be working on." His eyes meet Nyota's. "You and Cadet A'baa'ntan are acquaintances, I see?"

"We're actually roommates, Commander," Nyota says, correcting him.

"Most convenient, then." He turns back to Gaila. "You should accompany Cadet Uhura to the language laboratory Sunday morning. Our meeting will be short, and I will give you all the information that you require." 

Gaila bows her head. "Yes, sir. I'll do that."

Spock regards Nyota with eyes that are, once again, more gentle than before. "I will not take your time any longer. I do hope that your evening will be an enjoyable one for all of you."

"Thank you, Commander. Have a good evening."

With a final nod, he pivots with precision. Long strides take him to the door, and out of the restaurant. She watches him leave, not taking her eyes off of him until he exits the building.

The cadets settle back down, and Nyota can hear them rumbling about Spock's imposing presence. But she hears none of it. Instead the only thing that she can remember, the only thing that she can think about is how he looked at and spoke to John Carver tonight.

"…_I remember needing to ask the commander for extra assignments, as the established coursework presented little challenge for me…_"

His tone, his choice of words; Nyota does not know what to make of them.

_"Indeed. I have been told that I am among the Academy's most distinguished graduates on more than one occasion."_

If she applies what he said to a human being, a man who has a similar stoic demeanor as Spock's, she would come to the conclusion that the words came from a place of insecurity. Perhaps they came from a need to demonstrate his intellectual superiority over another male?

_He was jealous._

_Of what? That Carver's into physics? Or that Carver is clearly here with—_

No, not possible. Even though she suspects it, from that odd glint in his eyes. Spock upholds the rules of the Academy. Unless logic shows him a path, he cannot break those rules

_But he did tell you he is impulsive. For a Vulcan._

It is official; her own brain hates her.

The ensuing silence is broken by Carver's snorts and chuckles. "Are all Vulcans that uptight?" 

"Half-Vulcan," she replies automatically.

"Excuse me?"

Nyota stares at him blankly. "Commander Spock is half-Vulcan. His mother is human, just like you and me." She meets Gaila's gaze; her roommate gives her a piercing, knowing look. Somehow, that wordless acknowledgement is all the verification she needs that they will be analyzing this encounter for several days.


	5. part five

**A/N:** Another big THANK YOU!! to **mrstater** for her beta-reading and her suggestions. She's really been helping me clean up my "final drafts". I am so sorry this took a while getting up -- blame real life and work _and_ the fact that my computer's been sick all week, and I was just able to get her from the Genius Bar yesterday. Consequently, I've been sitting on this chapter for a week; I think it's finally time to post it!

In case you need a refresher -- this follows Nyota and Gaila's double date that Spock inadvertently stumbled on in part four. I am working on part six, but I have to do a bit of editing and transferring one part of the story to part seven. I'm not stopping writing on this, though. Just taking things... slowly ;-D Thank you to all the awesome reviews and favoriting/alerting to this story. I know I'm a slow writer, but I really do appreciate the support you've given me.

Check out my Spock one-shot, written between part four and part five: "This Most Illogical Matter"

Thanks for your patience.

* * *

Sunday morning, Nyota walks toward the language lab for her meeting with Commander Spock. She wishes she could enjoy the clear sky and lovely warm weather.

But she is with someone who refuses to leave her alone.

"I'm telling you, I'm pretty sure we just witnessed a massive Vulcan smackdown Friday night. Wait — do they have pissing contests on his planet?"

"Gaila, please," Nyota pleads. "You're not supposed to encourage my depravity." It is, of course, too late. The Orion woman spent the better part of the night after their date, and last night as well, poring over the run-in the four cadets had had with Commander Spock. To Nyota's chagrin, Gaila does nothing to lessen the niggling feeling scratching at the back of her mind; Spock was, somehow, unbelievably, jealous that Cadet John Carver had been her companion at dinner. They enter the building that houses the language lab while Gaila continues her incessant chatter.

"Look, I'm just a mere observer of all species, but what I saw with my own two eyes on our dinner night was Spock telling Carver just how _big_ his ears actually are."

Nyota smacks her.

"Ow! He was!"

"Was not."

"He was!"

Nyota stops dead in her tracks, nearly making Gaila walk smack into her. "Oh my God! Are you, like, twelve with the he-was-he-wasn't crap? And why are you following me here, anyway?"

"Remember? The _Kobayashi Maru_ program? Mr. Tall, Dark, and Vulcan told me to come with you this morning." She huffs at Nyota and waves her palm in front of her, making a big circle. "Or did you not hear that part of the conversation over all the unresolved sexual tension between you and Commander Big Ears?"

Nyota narrows her eyes at her "friend." "There are no words in any known prime language to the Federation that can convey how much I dislike you right now."

Gaila grins smugly and rolls her eyes. "Whatever. You love me, if only because I let you borrow my sex boots."

"Can we please not call them that?" Nyota is now desperate to shut Gaila up. She looks around the building; there are a few cadets about. She waves at those who know her, and she searches for a topic that will preoccupy the Orion woman. "So," Nyota says quickly, "you're doing Jim Kirk's simulation then?"

"Yeah — hey, how'd you know it's Kirk's test this week?"

"Because I'm his 'communications officer'," she says, crooking her fingers. "The idiot gave me a pathetic song-and-dance number about how he needed 'the best' on his crew. And he'll need it. By all accounts, the _Kobayashi Maru's_ a killer."

"Yeah… oh!" The Orion nodded twice. "That's right. You know Kirk pretty well then?"

"Unfortunately, I do. You were there when he changed my messages to say, '_You have reached Cadet—_'"

"'_Strawberry Shortcake_!'" Gaila snaps her fingers, the memory returning to her. "How could I forget that? You rag on me for my pheromones, and yet humans are responsible for silly drawings that move."

Nyota fumes. "Yes, well, I sure as hell haven't forgotten." Her roommate has a completely different reaction, giggling loudly enough so it echoes in the hallway of the building. They walk by other cadets who turn to watch Gaila with curious expressions.

"You know, after Kirk did that, I totally admired his tech skills. Or at least whomever he bribed to alter your message unit for him. "

"Thanks for your loyalty, Gaila," Nyota replies darkly.

"But... I've never _seen_ him."

"He's just your ordinary, hot-to-trot cadet meathead who only has sex on his mind." Nyota waves her hand dismissively. There is only one benefit to this conversation; at least if they discuss Kirk, they are not discussing Spock, giving Gaila fewer opportunities to tease her about the commander.

"You say that like it's a bad thing." Gaila clicks her tongue and shakes her head. "Humans and their sexual hang-ups."

Nyota presses her mouth together and drawls flatly, "On behalf of the entire human race, I apologize that our sexual appetites are not as advanced as Orion's."

Gaila smiles devilishly. "I heard from Janice that Kirk's hot."

"Objectively, yes. But then he opens his mouth and ruins the whole effect."

"What does that mean?"

"He may be hot. He's also pretty smart and, for some women, he's charming."

Gaila's eyebrow flies up. "I take it you're not susceptible to his charms, though?"

Nyota snorts in response. "He's a cocky, obnoxious, arrogant man-whore who I find to be less welcome than a fly in a Samarian Sunset."

Her roommate scoffs. "Come on. You know Rand's got great taste in men. If he's as cute as she says he is—"

Nyota spins around and points at very stern finger into Gaila's face. "Oh no! New rule: you are not allowed to meet Jim Kirk."

"Why?"

"Because, you're his type! Neither of you will be able to resist each other. At least he won't be able to resist you. And I have a feeling if you two somehow got together, both of you'd make my life a living hell."

"Nyota," Gaila says, her voice thick with mock sincerity, "have I ever made your life hell?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?"

The Orion giggles again. "Fair point. Probably not."

"Besides," Nyota continues, "what's this sudden kick to meet Kirk? What about Berkeley?"

Gaila sighs. "He's nice and all but I don't know. I'm feeling… restless."

"You always feel restless."

"Yeah, and I think he feels this is a permanent thing between us, which is so not what I'm looking for right now. I'm an Orion woman. I've got very complex sexual needs and desires." She shrugs. "Berkeley's simply not enough to satisfy me—"

Nyota's hands slam against her ears. "I don't need to hear this!"

Her roommate rolls her eyes. "Puritan. Plus, I'm still young. We're all still young. We should be out exploring strange new worlds. Heavenly bodies. All that good stuff."

Nyota lets out an inelegant grunt. She is about to say something, when the entrance to the lab slides open. Both women look up, right into the calm face of Commander Spock.

"Good morning, Cadet Uhura, Cadet A'baa'ntan."

Nyota and Gaila square their shoulders and stand at attention. "Commander Spock," both say in unison.

He steps aside and allows them both to enter the lab. The door shuts behind them. The bright lights from the laboratory's monitors and computers fill the room, and there are small beeps and other sounds that come from the machines.

"I will confer briefly with you first," Spock says to Gaila, "as you will be working in the _Kobayashi Maru_ simulation room today." He turns next to Nyota. "Cadet Uhura, you and I will then focus on the questions that the cadets brought to you during your office hours. Will that suffice?"

She nods, once again feeling the quick palpitation of her heart and the fluttering of her stomach. She feels utterly stupid for the way her body reacts to him. "I can start looking through my notes and the students' questions, Commander."

Spock nods and motions for Gaila to follow him to a monitor. She walks behind him some paces.

"_Nyota_…"

She turns at her roommate's whispered voice. Grinning, Gaila silently points at Spock's back, and then at his ears. Biting her lip, she then gestures to her crotch, and she finishes by holding her hands at least a foot-and-a-half apart, parallel to each other. Gaila nods and not-too-subtly mouths, "_Oh yeah_!"

"_I'm – going – to – kill – you - later_!" Nyota's expression is exaggerated as she moves her lips.

Gaila and Spock have their conference, which lasts for fifteen minutes. The Orion woman takes the PADD and the programming cards that Spock gave her. As Gaila waves goodbye — wearing the most obvious, knowing grin that Nyota has ever seen on anyone — the xenolinguistics aide manages to flash a very quick, very obscene gesture in Orion behind the Vulcan commander's back.

The entrance slides shut again, this time, leaving Spock and Nyota alone. Her eyes never leave him, and she can feel things heating up all around her as he approaches. He stops just in front of her. The beeps of the largest console behind him echo in the quiet. For the briefest moment, something flashes across his face. Nyota thinks he is hesitating; however, after a few moments, he speaks.

"I trust you had an enjoyable dinner Friday night."

She manages to cover up her choking, surprised cough with a chuckle. "Y-yes. Uh, I did." No words pass between them for a second. Nyota decides to clarify. "It was just a group of us going out. As friends."

He nods — very slowly. "Humans thrive on social interaction. It is acceptable to enjoy these activities with a suitable partner."

She thinks she mistakes it, but she can hear the slightest emphasis on "suitable." Spock continues speaking, his face never showing anything out of the ordinary. "I was under the impression that you were engaged in the human ritual known as a 'date'."

She resists the urge to gape. Instead, she speaks low and slow. "A date? Well, yes… I guess I was."

"You were on a date with Cadet John Carver?"

She stifles a laugh. "You have a good memory."

Spock raises his shoulders the barest amount: the Vulcan version of a shrug. "A Vulcan's memory is infallible."

There is a hint of a shallow line on Spock's face. Nyota finds that, the longer she looks at Spock, the more she wants to smile. So, she does, and she taps the corner of her PADD on the console nearest to her. "Don't ask me why I even let Gaila talk me into it. He was a nice guy. It was a fun night. But," she says with a sigh, "sometimes things don't work out." she says softly. And she chuckles. "And, he's definitely not my type."

She chances meeting Spock's eyes. Although his face is as stoic, as impassive as ever, he watches her, his eyes never wavering. They slope up just a bit, as if they are opening up to her, as if they wanted to ask her something…

"I hope you do not mind, but there are a couple of matters that I must discuss with you first before we conference about your office hours."

Of course, she was imagining it — and what a stupid, romantic notion! Asking a question with his eyes!

Nyota hums and nods. "That's fine, Spock. Go ahead." She sits her PADD down on the console and folds her arms in front of her. She keeps an expression of mild amusement on her face, a good disguise for the fact that her chest wants to explode after the conversation about Friday night.

Spock stands before her, his legs pressed together, his hands behind his back. "I do not mean to be so indirect. But I wanted to inquire as to your plans for the future."

Nyota blinks in surprise. "My plans for the future? Well, my hope is to be assigned to a vessel on a long-term exploratory and diplomatic mission. I'm hoping for the _USS Enterprise_."

His mouth, almost imperceptibly, twitches. "The _Enterprise_?"

She hums affirmatively. "Mm-hm. I guess I never told you. I've wanted to fly on her since I first saw her being built in Iowa, almost three years ago."

Spock turns away and takes two steps to the right. "Fascinating."

"Really? Because I didn't think it'd be all that surprising."

He pivots sharply around and faces her. "Please elaborate on your reasons as to why you wish to serve on the _Enterprise_?"

Nyota's brow creases. She hardly knows what any of this has to do with Spock's cryptic conversation. But she chuckles quietly to herself and thinks. The long nights of discussing her obsession with the _Enterprise_ to Gaila have prepared Nyota well for this moment. "Her mission," she starts, reverently, "is a godsend for any xenolinguistics specialist. I'll quote Admiral Robert April's own words from the Federation's press release: 'The five-year mission of the _USS Enterprise_ will be to explore new worlds, to seek out life-forms and species with whom we share our corner of our galaxy.' She is the Federation's crown jewel in their exploratory and diplomatic armada. No other vessel will make as many first contacts as she will."

She laughs and shakes her head, looking up at the ceiling with a contemplative expression. "Think about all the languages, all the cultures and all the species that she's going to meet. It would be any xenolinguist's dream come true." Her head drops down and she focuses her gaze on him. "And you wonder why I want the _Enterprise_? She is my first choice, especially if it's true that Captain Pike will be commanding her when she flies out."

At this, Spock's shoulders pull back. He lifts his head slightly. "Captain Pike?"

Nyota smiles broadly. "I only want to work with the best."

Spock takes five seconds to consider something. "Nyota, I will impart this information to you as you and I are friends."

Her face falls. She is taken aback. _Friends_? "Oh, we're... friends?"

"You were not under this impression?"

Nyota thinks she should feel flattered at Spock's regard for her. Truthfully, though, she feels a twinge of disappointment. Unreasonable, sure, but to hear him call her "a friend" invariably leads one to think of the clichéd excuses used when one wants to let another down easily.

"Y-yes," she stammers. "I do think of us as friends."

"I have come to regard you as a friend, a true colleague of mine. It is my experience that friends can share confidences between each other when necessary. I will state that, until the official announcement is made, it would be best to not publicize what I am about to tell you outside of this room."

Nyota gazes at him with a serious expression and nods. "Of course." This, more than anything else Spock says, whets her curiosity.

"Captain Christopher Pike will be in command of the _USS Enterprise_ when she embarks on her first voyage."

Nyota yelps in triumph and shakes her fist in the air. "Oh, it's good when Starfleet makes the right decisions. But, if this hasn't been made public yet, how do you know for sure?"

"My appointment yesterday, the reason you and I could not meet, was with Captain Pike. He informed me that he will be assuming captainship of the _Enterprise_ for her first mission."

Here, he hesitates, but only for a moment. She sees a hint of a smile, the barest glimpse of one, peek across his face; it returns to its normally impassive expression. "Normally, I would not mention this news to a cadet, as it is has not yet been made public. However, Nyota," he says, pausing for a moment, "you are different."

She cannot help but feel her face warm.

"I trust you would not speak of this conversation, nor any aspect of it, outside of this room?"

She nods. "Absolutely. If it hasn't been made public knowledge yet, no one will hear it from me. Especially Gaila. She loves goss– "

Nyota stops talking. Spock doesn't need to know that she's rooming with 'the biggest mouth in Starfleet'. "She won't find out from me. Trust me."

The corners of Spock's mouth remain turned up. "You are the first to know that Captain Pike has requested me to be his first officer. There is a possibility that I may also act as his science officer."

She stares at him, her heart practically bursting at the news. She walks toward Spock. Nyota is unsure of what this would accomplish; she cannot shake his hand or hug him or do anything that wouldn't get her into trouble with the Academy Council. No matter how much she may want to give him a congratulatory kiss. Instead, she smiles at him, proudly and without reservation, keeping her hands behind her back. "Congratulations, Spock. That's a huge honor."

He nods once. "I thank you."

"And the _Enterprise_ just became my only choice for my assignment."

Nyota barely realizes she utters her thought out loud. Her mouth falls open, and she cannot talk. Silence ensues. Spock's head tilts the opposite direction.

"Please pardon this query, but what do you mean by that?"

Nyota kicks herself. Of course, what she had meant by that is that she would jump at the opportunity — any opportunity — to work with Spock beyond the Academy. As his peer. No more of this cadet-instructor dynamic.

_Or those pesky rules about cad__et-instructor relationships…_

She wills her mind to shut up. "What I meant, Spock," she begins carefully, "is that serving with a captain and a first officer such as Captain Pike and yourself would be an experience I could never refuse. Both of you would make an exceptional team."

His nostrils expand subtly, but the half-smirk (of course, quite small by human standards) remains on his face. "This is a compliment to both Captain Pike and myself, then?"

"My attempt at one, yes."

He pivots and takes two steps away from her. "If you do not have any objections, I wish to make another inquiry of you."

Relieved that he believes her explanation for now, she lifts her shoulders, as if this is no big deal. "Sure. Go on."

"Have you given much thought about what you intend to do once your work with me has come to an end?"

She hopes he cannot hear the hitch in her chest; Vulcans, after all, have rather acute hearing. They can pick up sounds from much farther away than humans, and they are able to discern abnormalities that are too soft for human ears. "Truthfully, I've been thinking a lot about that," Nyota begins, exercising caution but feeling relief that he has broached this topic before she could. "I'm almost finished with the paperwork to submit to Commander Kyle and Commander Patel. I'm going to apply for the aide position that's currently open in the Advanced Acoustical Engineering Department."

She can see him stiffen, but the way his eyes barely widen and the way the lower half of his face falls slightly, tells her he is surprised with her news.

"This is a fortunate development."

His reaction startles her. Nyota cannot help but feel miffed. "I didn't realize that you'd feel my leaving would be 'fortunate'."

Spock's normally stoic demeanor falls for the briefest of seconds. His eyelids flutter for a moment, and his mouth barely opens. He looks — dare she say — flustered? It does not last long. "I did not… my intent was not to suggest that I felt any such thing. I would be losing you as an aide. I cannot see how this would put me in a fortunate position."

Nyota rubs her lips together, pondering what to say next. "Okay. So what did you mean when you said, 'This is a fortunate development'?" Her voice is sharp in tone, catching them both off guard.

Spock walks to her right, his hands behind his back. Rather than look at her, he stares at the in front of him. She angles her body and rotates to keep her eyes on him the entire time.

"I only meant that it is fortunate that you are thinking about your future. Should you take a position with Commander Kyle, the expertise you would accrue under his tutelage will serve your training to be a communications officer on any vessel."

"Including the _Enterprise_?" She raises her eyebrow.

He stops walking and twists around to face her. He shows no emotion. "Including the _Enterprise_."

Nyota moves closer to Spock. "So as my mentor, you believe that it would be in my best interests to apply for this aideship?"

"That I do. You have grasped the applicable theories and techniques that underlie the foundation for xenolinguistics. Your work with alien languages is unrivaled among your peers. As your mentor, what I would recommend as most beneficial for you is to focus on noise control, noise reduction and operations of the instruments that you will utilize on whichever vessel you will be serving."

Nyota nods. She realizes she is standing awfully close to him. Probably no more than a foot separates them. If she only had the guts to move a bit closer… "That's what I was thinking. I'm glad you agree."

"It is a logical path."

She watches him, her smile closing into a grin. "You're talking as if I've already gotten the position."

"Do you doubt your qualifications?"

"There's always doubt. There will be several qualified applicants to be Commander Kyle's aide."

"But none with my recommendations. Save for one."

She blinks and giggles softly; he has left her flustered, and she hates that she's letting him see this. "I take it you're not referring to Cadet Alden. He's got some xenolinguistic skills himself."

Nyota catches Spock's eyes; for the Vulcan, he is watching her with curiosity, and a hint of confusion.

"I could really only give a recommendation for you, Nyota. I have worked the closest with you, and I have found your instincts, your intellect, and your work ethic to be satisfactory." He arches his brow. "Highly satisfactory."

She smiles broadly again, finally laughing when she can no longer hold back. "Thank you. That certainly means a lot. If you do decide to give me a recommendation," she says, not wanting to appear presumptuous, "I think I'll have as good a shot as anyone to be chosen as his aide."

"You have been and would be the ideal aide for any instructor."

It is uncharacteristic for Spock to compliment her so thoroughly, although his tone and expression remain reserved. But, she will not debate why he's choosing to praise her so. Sometimes, Nyota discovers, she simply needs to know when to say something and when it would be best to say nothing.

After a few moments, Spock breaks the silence. "Might I suggest that you work on completing the application for Commander Kyle and send it to him and Commander Patel as soon as possible."

"I'm almost finished with it. I think I can have it into him by the middle of this week."

Spock nods once. She takes this to mean he approves. "Very well. I will offer my reference for you in person to him. I have been meaning to consult him about upgrades to our transmission cleaners in this laboratory. I have noticed some distortions leaking through several playbacks of subspace transmissions. These are unacceptable to our training modules as we study these recordings."

Nyota's smile never falters. There is something about their conversation that feeds her ever-increasing giddiness and nervousness. Why she is nervous, though, she cannot say. "Thank you. Honestly, I don't think I could've asked for better."

For another fleeting moment, something closely resembling a close-mouthed grin appears on Spock's face. He says nothing to her and instead turns his attention to the PADD that he has been holding in his hands.

Surely this cannot be it? A thousand thoughts, and other things, run through Nyota's mind. Their dinners… their conversations together… the time they have spent inside and outside the language lab…

Her face, alight as Spock spoke compliment after compliment, returns to a more serious expression. Regardless of whatever he may think of her, Nyota does not want to lose this _thing_ she has built with him. But to bring this up could raise some thorny issues between them.

"Perhaps now it is an appropriate time to discuss the cadets' concerns regarding—"

"Spock, can I ask you something?"

His open mouth closes and he stands ramrod straight, looking at Nyota without emotion. "You may."

She swallows as she steps forward. "You know, I'd… I don't want to… what I mean is that I want to make sure that you and I can still talk."

_Way to go, Nyota. Think before you speak._

She feels she is digging a hole for herself. Of course, when in this position, she can do little else but keep blabbing. It only gets worse when his eyebrow peaks up.

She attempts to recover. "Maybe meet whenever. Sit and talk. As colleagues. And friends."

The corners of his cheeks twitch. "Nyota, there is no reason for us to discontinue our discussions concerning xenolinguistics and alien cultures, including my own. Indeed, there are other areas of interest to myself that would be most fascinating to discuss with you. And, did we not already agree earlier that we were…" There was the slightest hesitation. "We did agree we were friends, or am I mistaken?"

Once again, she is thankful she didn't botch anything. For a cadet who is supposed to be proficient in languages, Nyota manages to forget all proper communication whenever she has to deal with something far more personal. She does not understand why her brain seems to fail her so.

"No. You're right, Spock. We're friends. So that means I'll still get to see you, even if I start working for Commander Kyle?"

"Without doubt."

"And if I were to ask you to join me for dinner, would you say no?"

_Nyota?_

_What the hell are you doing?_

Spock freezes. To anyone else, he would appear normal, but Nyota can see, can even sense his body tightening, his face hardening. It is so subtle, but her discerning eyes notices. His mouth remains shut and he says nothing. For the first time, Nyota finally understands the meaning of the words "an echoing silence."

Her eyes drift slightly to the left. She wants to make something up, go back, and cover her tracks. But she cannot, because her words are already out there.

_Dammit!_

After a moment, his face relaxes. "I would not deny the opportunity to socialize with you outside of the Academy environment, if that is what you mean."

Too quickly, Nyota replies. "Oh, of c-course I that's what I mean. What would make you think that I mean anything else?" She forces a giggle, which sounds infinitely immature and she quickly bottles it back up. "As friends."

Spock approaches her. "Might we make an arrangement to have dinner together upon your selection as Commander Kyle's aide? This would serve a dual purpose: to demonstrate my appreciation of your work in my lab and with my classes, and to celebrate your new job."

She smiles, although she still feels her nerves. "Aren't you being a bit optimistic, Spock? That I'll be selected?"

"I am only being logical."

She presses her lips shut, but she chuckles quietly. "I accept. Dinner then, but on the condition that Commander Kyle and Commander Patel select me for the aideship."

"Agreed." His expression is soft and his stare lingers on her for a few seconds longer, making her heart throb loudly in her chest.

_Talk about Andorian dialects! Talk about Andorian dialects!_

_Move on! _The words ring like the klaxon of a red alert in her head. _Move on! Move on!_

"Right. So that's done. Moving on." Her voice is uncharacteristically bright as she begins to address the cadets' questions. Nyota keeps her eyes glued to her log, but she cannot help looking over at Spock far more frequently than normal.

And she is certain that his eyes linger on her for a few seconds longer than was necessary.

********

Nyota yawns. This has already been a long week, and now she must bear witness to the slaughtering of Cadet Jim Kirk at the hands of the _Kobayashi Maru_.

Although, with all the crap he has put her through, Nyota cannot say she would not mind witnessing the destruction of his ego. The bastard deserves it, not only for annoying her at every given opportunity, but because a little humiliation would benefit him, since he will one day command a starship. And captains should not be prisoners of their own arrogance.

She pushes all of this from her mind. The last thing she wants to think about is Kirk, despite the fact that Gaila is desperate, utterly and infuriatingly desperate, to meet him.

"Where _is_ he, Nyota?"

"God, would you stop asking me that?" she asks through gritted teeth. They are just outside the control room for the simulation. This is Gaila's destination, and Nyota will continue downstairs to the mock bridge. The Orion has had one thing on her mind ever since they entered the building — and it wasn't computer programming.

Nyota smacks her friend to get her to pay attention. "You'll see Kirk soon enough. When the simulation starts."

The Orion woman sighs and ceases standing on her tiptoes. "Fine. I can be patient. Besides," she says, narrowing her eyes and grinning in an unnerving manner, "I'll have my revenge on you for being so mean to me." She laughs in a most evil fashion.

Nyota jabs her fists onto her hips. "And what do you mean by that?"

"I get to spend the entire simulation with Spocky-Poo!"

Nyota whacks her.

"Hey!" Gaila rubs the offended spot on her arm, glaring at Nyota. "You've been doing that a lot lately."

She rolls her eyes at her roommate. "Stop giving me reasons to hit you!"

"Stop reacting so much every time I mention your little Vulcan love muff—"

Nyota slams her hand over Gaila's mouth, because the door to the control room beeps. It slides open, revealing the commander himself.

_Of course._

A stream of curse words flow through Nyota's mind, but she manages to smile at him. "Good afternoon, Commander."

"Cadet Uhura, Cadet A'baa'ntan." Spock's eyebrow cocks up sharply. "Is there a problem?"

"No sir. Why do you ask?"

"You appear to be covering Cadet A'baa'ntan's mouth with your hand."

_Be smooth, Nyota. Be smooth…_

"Trust me, Commander," she says, "it's for the better." She hears Gaila huffing behind her hand and she cannot help but feel slightly triumphant with her victory over her chatty roommate.

"Indeed." Spock looks at both women. "Perhaps," he says, finally addressing Gaila, "you should check in at your station. We are almost ready to begin the program."

Nyota removes her hand and stares at Gaila with a sharp expression. She looks pointedly at the now open control room, sending a mental message to her roommate — "_Well, you heard him!_"

The Orion gives Nyota one final glance. "You haven't heard the end of this, Nyota." And with a smirk that is not lost on her, Gaila wiggles her fingers cheekily, and turns on her heels to enter the room properly.

Nyota presses her lips together; as much as Gaila infuriates her, she brings out Nyota's other side. She makes craziness acceptable; she allows laughter at the occasional insanity that strikes Nyota without warning… mostly when it involves Spock.

"She's a mess," she says with a grin. "But I wouldn't have it any other way."

Spock looks at her, perplexed. "You consider her a friend?"

With a smile, she shrugs. "Gaila's been there for me in a lot of surprising ways. When you've lived with someone for almost three years, you learn a lot about each other. And you find your life would be a lot emptier if you had never known them." Nyota smiles and shakes her head. "She's the closest thing I've had to a best friend here at Starfleet."

"This is still true even if you feel annoyance or anger at something she has done?"

Nyota now laughs, even with a slight grimace. "Well, that's how we work together. I'm the one whose feet are on the ground, the sensible one. Gaila's up in the clouds, always restless, always out for fun. I don't let her lose total control, and she doesn't allow me to get too serious about life."

Spock considers this, nodding twice, his mouth barely sloping upward. "Fascinating. Although I admit that it is confusing, the ways in which humans engage each other in their interpersonal relationships has always intrigued me."

She cannot meet his eyes, for if she did, he would certainly see her skin darkening. Instead she gulps and looks at her watch. "You said the simulation's about to start, Spock?"

"We are about to begin. However, I also wanted to inform you that I spoke with Commander Kyle, informing him of the quality of your work for me as my aide, and my recommendation that he hire you as his."

Her breath stalls in her chest. "Oh? You did?"

"He disclosed to me that he has not yet received your application. And neither has Commander Patel."

Nyota visibly winces. "I just turned in the paperwork. Actually, right before Gaila and I got here. I was up all last ni—" A perfectly timed yawn escapes her. She puts her wrist to her mouth as it passes. Spock tilts his head. "L-… last n-night finishing so I could submit them today." The escaping air cuts off her words. She gives her head a small shake. "I meant to turn everything in yesterday, but I got caught up in proof-reading and making sure everything was perfect."

His brow folds inward. "Will you be able to assist Cadet Kirk properly, even though you are clearly fatigued?"

She gives him a slightly peeved look; she knows she can handle her duties, regardless of whether or not she has gotten a proper amount of sleep. "I'll be fine."

"I meant no offense. I wanted only to express concern about your well being. And that after you are done here, you will be able to rest — in order to perform at optimal levels for the rest of the week, of course."

Nyota bites her tongue. She wants to assure him that, yes, she can take care of herself, and that he doesn't need to worry…

But she knows she is particularly cranky because she is so tired. However, more than this, it hits her that he is expressing a degree of care for her condition. Her chest gives a pleasant lurch and she smiles politely at him.

"I'll be fine," she says far more mildly this time. Nyota pivots sharply on her boot heels and walks toward the door. "Besides, I don't think I'm the one you should worry about."

Spock cocks his head. "I should not be concerned about any effects lack of rest will have on your performance tonight?"

She cannot help but laugh; the lack of sleep is making her a bit giddy. "Well, I'm not Cadet Kirk, and this is, thankfully, not my simulation. So, no. I don't think I'm the one you need to worry about." She smiles one last time before giving him a wave so she can take her place downstairs.

********

Five minutes into the test, and Nyota Uhura is sure about one thing—

"This is Captain James T. Kirk," the idiot bellows, unable to keep the swagger out of his voice "_USS Kobayashi Maru_, do you copy?"

Jim Kirk cannot be separated from his overly-inflated ego.

She pushes down every last bit of sarcasm that threatens to infect her words, and she summons the most professional voice that she is currently capable of. "There's a lot of distortion, but I am picking up chatter on their frequency."

"Put it up on the… er, the… the… thingy."

Her eyes roll so far back, she is certain she can see her brain stem; this is going to be a long day. "The _intercom_?"

"Yeah. That."

She snorts; behind her, from the center of the bridge at the helm, she hears another cadet grunt disgustedly. And then, a growling observation—

"Maybe you should've picked up a manual teachin' you how to fly your own starship!"

"Bones, is that any way for a first officer to talk to his captain?"

The intercom clicks on, but this time, the voice comes from a slightly annoyed administrator. "This is a reminder to all cadets. Please treat this exercise as if it was an actual mission, and not a simulation."

"Yeah, that's right. You all heard the man. Better treat this seriously!"

"That goes for you as well, Cadet Kirk."

Jim glares up at the observation deck; Nyota thinks he is tempted to flip them off. Thankfully, he does not.

"Resume the simulation." The dispassionate voice of the administrator fills the bridge. Nyota takes this as her cue to turn back to her console, swallowing another yawn.

"Captain Kirk," she says, attempting a little bit more professionalism, "I'm receiving the transmission from the sector now. I'll put it through the bridge."

There is a crackle of static… and a voice cuts through the air.

"This is… _Kobayashi Maru_… inside the Neutral Zone… hit gravitic mine… ship lost power… life support at sixty percent…"

The transmission fizzles out in static. "You know," Kirk says to his crew, "the more I think about this, the more it could be a trap." He taps his chin with his ring finger. "I'm starting to think that maybe we shouldn't go risking our necks for what could be an ambush—"

There is a loud series of beeps from Nyota's console. She is all too grateful to interrupt Kirk; she can also hear grumbling from McCoy, undoubtedly, he's about start swearing at his friend. Again.

"Oh, would you look at that! Captain Kirk, we are receiving new orders from Starfleet. Since we're the only nearby ship in the system, we're to rendezvous with the _Kobayashi Maru_ and rescue any survivors."

He smirks at Nyota and she blinks rapidly at him, feigning innocence.

"Now, now… watch the sarcasm."

"Be thankful I called you 'Captain,' _Captain_," she says with a slight sneer. And once again, an audible _click_ fills the mock bridge.

"To all cadets — be professional. We don't want to remind you again."

Jim looks up at the observation booth, exasperated. Nyota scowls; she quickly remembers that Spock is in the control room and can see her throwing attitude at Kirk. However, her annoyance at the cocky cadet and her overall crankiness today seem to be surpassing proper decorum.

Jim sighs, and then he starts barking orders. "Uhura, alert all decks… eh, red alert."

The familiar klaxon sounds and red lights flash across the "bridge."

"Mitchell," Kirk says, his arms crossed in front of his arrogantly puffed-up chest, "set a course for the Neutral Zone. Warp… oh, surprise me."

McCoy turns around, staring at him incredulously. "That's your idea of professional, Jim?"

"Fine, go to maximum warp." The tone of his voice remains as lackadaisical as before.

"Maximum warp, aye."

The display screen counts down from sixty seconds, at which point the simulation will bring them to the Neutral Zone.

Kirk shrugs at McCoy. "Hey. So far, so good."

"For Chrissakes, Jim, you're supposed to take this seriously. You seem to think you're playing a damn board game!"

The intercom snaps on again. "Cadet McCoy, no swearing during the simulation." The doctor grumbles a reluctant acceptance.

"Come on, Bones. I want you to admit, before the end of today, that you would love to serve on my ship."

"Will there even be enough room for a crew once your ego's squeezed on board?"

Nyota takes the opportunity to throw in her two cents; there was thirty seconds left on the clock, after all. "You'd do well to act more professional than you are now."

Kirk struts over to her station, and props himself on the back of her chair. "The way I see it, I've got this whole thing down."

She swivels her entire body to face him. "What exactly is that supposed to mean?"

He leans down and smirks at her. "I'm running a starship. My crew needs to see me exude confidence—"

She interrupts him. "No, what they need is _competence_. Also, a tip from your friendly neighborhood communications officer — 'thingy' is not acceptable in any professional parlance."

"You are so freaking uptight, Uhura!"

"Jim… er, Captain," McCoy shouts, "ten seconds to arrival at the Neutral Zone."

He winks at her. "Now, watch me kick this simulation all the way back into the Delta Quadrant!"

She can only shake her head as the counter on the monitor flashes zeros. "I have a feeling that the simulation's got nothing to worry about." She returns her attention to her station, fairly certain that Kirk is about to have his ass handed to him by the computer.


	6. part six

**A/N:** Another big THANK YOU!! to _mrstater_ for her beta-reading and her suggestions. To say I'm nervous about this part is an understatement, to say the least. I hope that this comes across as in character for both Nyota and Spock. My inspiration for writing them comes from the movie and the novelization of the movie, which I happen to love... particularly when spoken out loud by Mr. Spock himself, Zachary Quinto. According to most of the translations I've seen, _Furaha_ is Swahili for joy and happiness. I thought it might be a good name for a restaurant.

Thank you so much for reviewing and alerting this story. I really appreciate the support! I am going through reviews and replying to them, slowly but surely. But I really do want to say, for now, that I appreciate all your comments, insights, and honesty. I feel that you're all helping me write a better story!

* * *

**Part Six: First Contact**

"Your performance during Cadet Kirk's simulation was unorthodox."

Spock walks beside Nyota on the Saturday following Wednesday's simulation. They are inside the Warren Building, the home of the Academy's Xenolinguistics and Acoustical Engineering Departments. They proceed down the corridor, with its silvery walls lined with monitors and screens for announcements on one side, and clear glass overlooking San Francisco Bay on the other. The view is breathtaking; this side of the building overlooks the Golden Gate Bridge. The midday sun shines on its coppery façade, and traffic flows smoothly along both sides. The water is dark blue and reflects the sky brilliantly.

Nyota grins. "Is 'unorthodox' meant to be a compliment?" She is fairly certain that he does not intend for it to be a compliment, but she is testing him, seeing how he phrases the truth.

"I refer mostly to your demeanor during the simulation. I would have approached handling certain aspects of Cadet Kirk's personality differently."

She snorted. "Less sarcasm and more logic, you mean?"

"Precisely." He continues to walk, but keeps a mild expression. "Overall, however, you handled your duties adequately during the simulation."

She laughs. "You don't have to hold back with me, Spock. I know I shouldn't have been so sarcastic, but I can't tolerate arrogance. It's even more grating when the person has done nothing to warrant being so flip and blasé." Nyota taps her fingernails against her PADD, beating it in a steady rhythm on her left hip. Her grin falls as she replies, "I do know one thing. After witnessing what Kirk went through once we entered the Neutral Zone, I'm sure I will never want to command a starship."

She looks at him, their pace slow and steady. He regards her with an arched brow. "Did you ever desire to command your own vessel?"

She shakes her head vigorously. "Never, to be honest."

"Why is that, Nyota?"

Hearing him say her name in his deep voice pleases her greatly. She feels grateful that there are no other cadets or personnel nearby, so they may speak candidly between themselves. Although it does nothing to quell her troubled nerves.

They have just come back from the mess hall for lunch. Although they were engaged in a discussion of an older Romulan dialect, and its unique phonemic structures, Nyota's attentions were diverted more than a few times. She noticed other students looking at her and Spock as they sat together. The smirking expressions plastered on their faces told Nyota that they were the topic of gossip at several tables.

As she walks the halls with the commander, she wonders whether Spock heard them talk; after all, Vulcans have far stronger aural capabilities than humans.

She tries not to think about lunch; she is happy to discuss the _Kobayashi Maru_ and her desire never to command a starship with her mentor. She returns to his question. "Well, mostly because I hate being wrong."

Spock watches her with a raised eyebrow and a barely upturned mouth. "I have often been told," he begins, his footsteps echoing in the emptiness of the corridor, "that humans learn from their mistakes. That, sometimes, failures can be advantageous."

"True, but I can't ask for people to follow me if there's even the slightest possibility I could be wrong. Which is not good for building confidence among a crew."

Spock nods. "This is accurate. Thus, you have demonstrated considerable logic by cultivating your strengths with learning alien languages."

She smiles at him. "I see it as how I can best serve the Federation." She chews on the inside of her cheek as she thinks about Kirk immediately after he lost his vessel to the simulated Klingon battle cruisers. "I certainly don't begrudge Kirk and what he went through after his test." Nyota looks to her left; she is walking next to the glass wall and she can see a watership coming in under the Golden Gate Bridge.

"You are acquainted with the cadet, then?"

"Oh yes, I know him." The exasperation is thick in her voice; Nyota feels a sharp pang of guilt. Her own personal opinion of Jim Kirk is at odds with what she witnessed a few days ago. Kirk's reaction to failing the simulation was unexpected. His demeanor changed in an instant. He lost the arrogance that had marked his personality, and for the first time since she had met him in Iowa, he seemed vulnerable. Haunted.

She did not know what to make of it then, and thinking about it presently does nothing to answer her questions. But the impression she had always had of Jim Kirk since meeting him in the Shipyard bar almost three years ago comes into direct conflict with what she saw in that simulation chamber. Instead of further speculation, she focuses on what she does know about Kirk, and that is—

"He's a character, that's for sure."

"Do you consider yourself a friend of the cadet?"

At this, Nyota cannot help but laugh. Rather loudly. He watches her, his face soft and relaxed, his eyes a little wider than usual. He appears quizzical, for Spock at least.

"Did I say something that was amusing?"

She shakes her head. "No, it's just funny to think of us as friends. We didn't start off on the right foot. At all."

"I do not understand what feet have to do with it?"

"It's an old saying. It just means that Cadet Kirk and I didn't have the best introduction."

"I see. If you wish to elaborate, you may—"

"_MR. SPOCK!!_"

Nyota jumps; if the shout startles the Vulcan, to whom it was addressed, Spock shows no signs of outward physical reaction. Both the commander and cadet turn around to the source of the gruff voice.

Commander Douglas Kyle is a reedy, middle-aged man. He hurries toward them, burdened with a few PADDs, a big shoulder bag, and an earpiece, used to pick up and amplify incoming transmissions, stuck awkwardly in his right ear. His left eye twitches irregularly, a tic he has had for fifteen years. His shaggy blond hair is mussed, as if he had just rolled out of bed and had not bothered to comb it. It befits him, completing his image of walking chaos.

"There y'are," the engineer blusters breathlessly. "I've been looking for you… they said you left the mess hall."

Spock regards the other man with a perfectly expressionless face. "Cadet Uhura and I were returning to the language lab to prepare for Monday's class."

Kyle stares at Spock with a deeply creased brow and his eyes move rapidly between the Vulcan and Nyota. She takes the opportunity to contrast Kyle's wild, disheveled appearance with Spock's cool, stoic demeanor. There is really no question about which one she prefers. However, Nyota gives Kyle some leeway; it is the worst kept secret in Starfleet that Kyle returned from his mission on Talos IV fifteen years ago a different person. Since then, he prefers to stay on Earth. Rarely, he travels into space, unless expressly ordered by Starfleet.

Nyota is also aware of one basic truth: there are no other Starfleet officers better versed in acoustical engineering than Douglas Kyle. And any cadet with him as a reference can find himself or herself on the short list for a prime, high-profile mission.

_Such as the Enterprise._

Nyota cannot help but wish Kyle needs to discuss with Spock the aideship, and that he will be selecting her for the position.

"_Might we make an arrangement to have dinner together upon your selection as Commander Kyle's aide…?"_

Not that she thinks of Spock's arrangement from the previous weekend. No, not at all.

"Oh, so _you're_ Cadet Uhura?" He shifts all of his PADDs into one arm and holds his free hand out for her to shake. "Read over your application. Spock here says you have exceptional aural sensitivity."

She turns and looks at Spock with her eyebrow arched and a grin on her face. "Thank you, Commander." Spock merely bows his head once.

"And you've assisted him with deep space transmission identification. Signature recognition and noise cleaning."

She feels a burst of excitement, but she does not do anything to show it; instead, she continues to smile and she nods. "Yes. That's true.

"Well, it'd better be! I'm just remembering what you put in your records. I don't suffer liars and idiots, as you well know. They're worse than criminals… or Klingons." He stomps up to her, eyeing her with a seemingly suspicious stare. He squints his right eye shut; his left remains open, examining Nyota. She flinches a bit under his scrutiny. She tries not to have second thoughts about applying for the aideship; perhaps, if a cadet can survive his bizarre personality they can survive flying into space.

After he stares unnervingly at Nyota, Kyle snorts and nods with finality. "Yeah, you'll do."

She would appreciate it if he would elaborate, but Kyle snaps his head toward Spock. "You still having issues with the dampeners?"

"Yes. There is far too much sonic interference, as well as background noise, all of which affect our readings of sub- and deep space transmissions."

Kyle grunts at him and starts walking to the language lab. "I don't want _anyone_ coming in while I calibrate the machines! If so much as a _hair_ touches the floor twenty feet from them, I'll have to start the whole process over again!"

With a final sneer — which Nyota thinks is meant to be a smile in valediction — he leaves them standing where they were, next to the glass walls.

Spock turns to Nyota, his eyebrow arched. "It appears that you are Commander Kyle's new aide."

She blinks in rapid succession… and snorts out a disbelieving laugh. "You're not serious."

"I am. He did say that you will do."

Nyota stares at Spock with a significant amount of cynicism. "And that means I got the job?"

"As familiar as I am with Commander Kyle's demeanor and temperament, I can logically conclude that is exactly what he meant."

"That's not the traditional job offer among humans."

"That may be," Spock says, his voice still smooth, but his lips slowly, subtly drawing up the right side of his face. "Is it not also true that Commander Douglas Kyle is not a traditional instructor?"

Nyota considers this. "Well… yes. You're right."

Spock nods once and turns back to the view of San Francisco Bay. Shuttlecraft fly high above the Golden Gate Bridge, and a slightly thicker mist of clouds settles near the shore—

"As it appears you have been selected as his aide and will, undoubtedly, be put to work by him soon — perhaps even this week — we should make arrangements for dinner."

His words paralyze her. _Dinner_? Nyota has not forgotten their deal, but she also does not expect Spock to be the first between them to bring it up. There is nothing nervous or amused or coy in his demeanor; he is as dignified as ever.

"Perhaps we should." It is all she can manage, and she is infinitely thankful that her voice is far steadier than her nerves.

Spock, again, nods. "Very well. Do you have any existing obligations next Saturday?"

Nyota stuffs down the smile that wants to erupt across her face. "A week from now? No, Spock," she says in a serious tone. "I don't have any plans."

His eyes, and his eyes alone, shift so he may look at her while keeping his face forward. "Then we shall dine together that evening, Nyota."

She replies only with a smile, unable to speak because her heart has leapt up into her throat.

* * *

Gaila enters their room with all the grace and subtlety of a grown elephant. Or an entire herd of elephants.

"Oh – my – _God_! Nyota, you would not believe the day I've had!" she says very loudly, ignoring the fact that her roommate had been lying on her bed with a pillow covering her face. At Gaila's entrance, Nyota jumps up and glares at her angrily.

"Couldn't you see that I am — no, _was_ — resting?"

Gaila looks at her apologetically. "Sorry, sweetie." She throws her bag to the ground, where it lands with a dull thud. Gracelessly, she plops on her bed. "Rough day?"

Nyota sighs and lays back down, pressing the back of her hand against her closed eyes. "You can say that again."

"Hm… rough day?"

Nyota turns to shoot Gaila a flat expression. "That wasn't meant to be taken literally."

The Orion smirks. "I couldn't resist. Lame jokes," she says with a shake of her head. "I've been on this silly world _way_ too long."

Abandoning any attempt to nap, Nyota sits on the edge of her bed facing her roommate. "Only one day as Kyle's new aide, and all I know is that man is insane!"

Gaila guffaws. "I thought you already knew he was all—" She whistles as she her finger makes little circles next to her head.

"Knowing from secondhand information is one thing. Actually living through the Commander Kyle Experience is something else altogether." She rubs at her temples, the sound of his bellowing throughout the day, from the most general concepts to the tiniest minutiae, still resonating in her head. She suspects that the first day alone has overwhelmed her eardrums. "I can tell you, working with Spock never gave me a headache."

Gaila throws a pillow at Nyota's head.

"Hey! That was uncalled for!"

The Orion woman stands up, her hands on her hips, her skin a far deeper green than normal. "Do I need to remind you that we talked about comparing Spock and Kyle's mentoring styles? And how you weren't supposed to?"

Nyota tosses the cushion back at her friend. "Fine, alright? In my head, I'm constantly comparing the two. I can't help it." She grunts as she falls back onto her bed and shuts her eyes. "Only one day in, and I've got no idea how I'm going to make it through until graduation. If I did one thing, he yelled at me. If I did the thing he wanted me to do, he yelled at me to do something else! At this point, I've got no idea if I'm doing anything right."

Gaila flops down on the bed next to her and primly crosses her arms. "I will bet you all the credits in Captain Pike's account — which I hear is not an insubstantial amount — that you're doing everything right. Don't forget, I've seen you the last few days, and you've been pouring over every manual and diagram that you can lay your hands on. I'm sure by the end of all of this, you'll be able to tear apart and put together subspace signal cleaners even if Spock was dancing in front of you—"

"Gaila!" She tries not to smile. But as she jabs her elbow in her friend's ribs, Nyota lets a soft chuckle escape.

"Naked," the Orion finishes. Nyota rolls her eyes.

"This is how you're helping me get over Spock? By putting _that_ image in my head?"

Gaila flaps her hand blithely. "Please! You getting over your green-blooded sex god anytime soon — or ever — is about as likely as me going celibate for a month."

"Or a week," Nyota mumbles.

"Either way," Gaila continues, ignoring the comment, "that's not happening. Especially as T-minus-zero hour approaches for your date with him." She arches her eyebrow just as Nyota is about to protest the nature of her dinner with Spock on Saturday. Instead, she lets it go, her thoughts turning to the possibilities, to the _whatifs_ of the evening. She has been thinking about it during her free time, and she has even pondered scenarios with Gaila — what to wear, what is the proper way to consider this dinner, if this particular activity in any way violates Starfleet's Code of Ethical Conduct…

"Let's make a deal," Gaila says, interrupting Nyota's musings, "we work on the pesky issue about what you're going to wear on your 'not date', and then I get to tell you about my crazy day — starting with me breaking up ever-so-dramatically with Berkeley!"

This gets Nyota's attention. She gapes at her. "You didn't?"

Gaila nods, slowly, exaggeratedly. "Uh-huh! But first thing's first." Gaila scrambles off the bed, and heads over to her closet, flinging the doors open. She tosses a bottle to Nyota, who nearly rolls off of her bed trying to catch it.

"What's… Oh yes! Bajoran Springwine. Perfect."

Nyota takes the glass that Gaila offers her and reaches for an opener.

"If we're going to do this whole 'girly' thing, we're going to do it right." Gaila winks at her as Nyota fills both their cups and she starts throwing out dress after dress, skirt after skirt, and top after top, trying to find the perfect outfit for her friend for the long-awaited dinner.

* * *

They have shared dinners before. But Nyota knows this is different.

She approaches their scheduled meeting spot. Tonight, they will dine at the same restaurant — _Furaha_ — where Spock shared with her the story of his childhood.

That was a few weeks ago. This is now.

Nyota takes the opportunity to adjust her wrap around her shoulders, mentally thanking Gaila for suggesting that she dare to bare a bit of skin. Not that her outfit is at all inappropriate. A simple black cocktail dress, the most conservative article of clothing Gaila owns, is certainly nothing the Academy could complain about.

Of course, the Academy may frown upon the slit on the skirt of the dress, one that affords quite a provocative view of Nyota's whole left leg. "No guts, no glory! _Carpe diem_! Actually, _Carpe_ Spock!" Gaila winked when she shoved Nyota out of their apartment.

Any doubts as to her choice of evening wear was put to rest the moment Nyota meets Spock in front of the restaurant. They make eye contact for three seconds; she keeps time in her head.

And then his gaze falls. After three seconds of silence, she continues counting as his eyes…

She can feel blood rush to her head, but she stands perfectly still, waiting to see if he will say something. There is no talking at first; she inhales deeply through her nose. Six seconds pass, and still his gaze lingers on her. She smiles, biting her lip. For a human, certainly such observation would be normal; a man would take his time admiring her.

Eight-point-five seconds.

For a Vulcan, this is uncharacteristic. Nyota feels little doubt that it is Gaila's dress that must have caught the commander's attention—

"Your dress is not regulation."

She barely registers that he has spoken. His voice is deep, and yet possesses a soft quality. The gentle breeze catches his words, making them sound even softer as if they are about to drift away. But as Nyota has resolved not to let her mouth run unchecked from her, she tries to formulate a smart reply that is a dash flirtatious in tone.

"Is there a problem with it? Should it be regulation?"

Spock looks at her, betraying no emotion. "It was merely an observation."

She grins, favoring the right side of her face. "I hope you haven't been waiting long."

"I only arrived five-and-a-half minutes ago. I happened to arrive early, in order to confirm that there would be a table waiting for us."

Nyota looks at him, partially surprised, slightly bemused. "You… reserved a table for us?"

"It is my understanding that this is common practice among humans. Planning in advance to ensure that the selected dining location would be able to accommodate us." She laughs, but it is a pleasant and easy sound.

"I don't know why I'm even questioning your thoroughness, Spock. You really do think of everything."

He regards her again, his face showing no emotion. But she notices there is smoothness to his expression, as if he is free from tension or stress. Perhaps there is something to this, that he actually does enjoy being in her company.

"Are you ready to enter the restaurant, Nyota?"

She nods and proceeds past him, smiling from the butterflies erupt in her tummy as he holds the door open for her.

* * *

Nyota takes a sip of her Riesling, her face pulling upward into a coy grin as she sets down her glass. Their conversation this evening has flowed effortlessly.

She licks her lips. "I swear though, if heard one more student say, '_Ng-tlh_', rather than '_Ngetlh_', I was going to scream." Nyota, making sure to jut her chin forward to facilitate the correct pronunciation of one of the Klingon words for 'home'.

"It is a common mistake. Indeed, I have seen several xenolinguists ranked as officers who made similar errors."

Nyota shakes her head in disgust. "But when dealing with an alien species that's both hostile and suspicious of the Federation's motives, all trained Federation xenolinguists should make it their priority to know their language as if they've spoken it their entire life!" She speaks rapidly and with no pause, stopping only once to allow herself a single breath. "Familiarity with Klingon dialects and customs would certainly garner respect from the empire. It could even help shift the Klingon-Federation relationship into a peaceful one rather than this stalemate that you know won't last." She does not mean to become so impassioned, but they are discussing xenolinguistics, and if there is one thing that can rile Nyota up, it is a lack of intellectual curiosity about alien languages.

"Your observations and reasoning are logical, Nyota. We do our best as instructors, but, sometimes, we find the quality of the cadets to be less than satisfactory."

She places her wine glass down again and dabs at her lips. "Present company excluded?" Spock tips his head forward. The gesture is minimal but elegant, and it pleases Nyota to see him like this. Smiling, she looks down at his plate.

"I hope you're enjoying the food here."

Spock places his fork on the plate and brings his napkin to his mouth. He finishes eating his bite as he folds his hands in front of him. "I find myself curious about the food indigenous to your culture."

"Our cuisine intrigues you?"

He nods once. "There are certain similarities to the Vulcan diet."

She folds her hands together and rests her chin on them. "Do you mean the emphasis on vegetables and grains over meat? Cooking with aromatics, using spices with strong heat and flavor profiles?"

"That is precisely what I mean."

Nyota smiles. "Well, we love our greens. I will say that we do mean roasted pig, though. Perhaps we could try it someday."

"Although I would not normally be inclined to consume animal flesh or skin, given the opportunity, an exception could be made."

"Is that a '_yes_'?" The words roll off of her tongue, but despite her flirtatious tone, she does not flinch as she looks at him. Nyota blames the wine… partially. She also blames the fact that she is no longer his aide, and this entire situation — the low light of the restaurant, the candle flickering between them, and the graceful chorus of voices singing softly in Zulu piping through the restaurant—

It feels more and more like an actual date.

"Yes, that is an acceptance of your invitation."

She smiles so big, so wide, her face feels as if it might burst. It is the dawn of a new day between them. She knows it. And, deep down, Nyota feels Spock knows it too.

He studies her for five seconds; Nyota can see the light of the candle cast shadows that appear to tickle his otherwise pale skin. He breaks the trance. "Might I make a personal query of you, Nyota?"

She sits straight up, her hands falling on either side of their small table. She notices how close they are to his. "Sure. Go ahead."

Spock tilts his head slightly to the right. "As a young child, did you go out into nature?"

"Oh, I did! Plenty of times," she says, leaning forward on the table and lowering her voice. "I even got to spear an automated lion when I turned sixteen." She punctuates her revelation with a teasing grin.

Spock arches his eyebrow. "Fascinating. This is similar to what I endured during my _kahs-wan_ test."

"Well, I didn't have to survive on my own for ten days in the harshest natural conditions like you did, but I will say that fighting a machine that is smarter than any real lion and can critically injure you can give a girl a rush."

"Indeed."

Nyota leans against her chair, and swirls her wineglass in her hand. As Spock does not speak right away, she continues with her memories. "I do love nature. Both my mother and father were avid gardeners."

Spock looks at her, acknowledging the new bit of information, but he says nothing, allowing her to elaborate further.

"They thought it was a good way to relax away from their jobs. They even managed to grow a small private orchard of orange trees, about fifteen trees or so, right on our land." She laughed softly. "I loved helping them. _Loved_ it. When I went to school, everyone said I smelled like oranges and grass. Honestly, I probably still do."

Spock listens to her, his back straight, his eyes watching her the entire time.

"My mother still worked in the garden even after my father..." Nyota coughs, suddenly getting choked up. She takes a sip of her wine and takes a moment to compose herself. Spock says nothing, only waits for her to continue.

It is something she tries to not think about, instead focusing all of her energies on her mother whenever possible. After all, dwelling on her father's inexplicable disappearance six years ago still hurt, still shakes her to her core.

But in those rare moments when she remembers she is, for all intents and purposes, fatherless, Nyota allows herself to feel whatever it is she feels for five seconds. Then she remembers that she let herself mourn for two years and she has moved on, focusing all of her energy onto Starfleet Academy. She has created a life now separate from her past and she has learned to continue living.

"Sorry." She flashes him a small smile, one that she does not feel is truly genuine.

"Nyota, it was not my intention to have said anything that would make you uncomfortable or bring forward unpleasant thoughts."

She holds her hand up. "No. It's not you, Spock. Sometimes, it hits me funny when my father comes up in conversation. That's all."

"You may talk about something else if that will help."

"Er, thanks," she says quietly. Nyota clears her throat and takes another drink. She is about to say something else, but suddenly thinks the better of it. She searches her mind for anything else that they could talk about, anything at all to remove this ever-increasing awkward silence. The quiet stretches painfully between them, and a whole minute passes with no further conversation.

As she sits still, her hands fidgeting in her lap, the choral music still playing in the background, Nyota feels more uncomfortable than she ever has before. They were having such a brilliant time, talking, eating, and reminiscing. If only her emotions had not gotten the better of her…

Maybe, she thinks, Vulcans do have it right, after all.

"If you are finished, we may leave." Spock glances over at a window to his left. "The weather is adequate for a walk, if that is acceptable for you."

Despite the sudden shift in her emotions, Nyota feels her chest give a pleasant lurch. "A walk would be great."

After settling the credits and exiting the restaurant, Nyota takes a moment to breathe in the fresh air, the tang of the salty sea wafting into her nose, comforting her. She loves nights like these, when she can see the stars and smell the water in the air. Gulls fly above them and she can hear their calls mingling with the breeze, mixing with the sounds of the city around them.

They begin walking along the sidewalk, illuminated by old-fashioned street lamps that are probably over two hundred years old. They receive little in the way of stares or gossipy whispers from other couples and pedestrians; Nyota thanks the stars that they chose to dine at a good distance from the Academy, and a place that not many of the other cadets knew of.

Once she has wrangled her emotions and thoughts under control, she chances a question of the commander. "Well, it's my turn to ask a query of you."

"You may proceed."

She holds her small purse in front of her, her steps matching his, slow and steady and even. "Why did you ask me if I went out into nature when I was younger?"

He turns to face her. "We do not have to talk about this if the subject is one that will elicit a negative emotional response from you."

She spins around and faces him. "Spock." Her voice is gentle, but with a slight chiding tone. He stops walking. "I'm fine. I'm just curious about why you would ask me something so specific. About me liking nature."

"It is something I have been thinking about recently. On Vulcan, I would climb mountains and walk through deserts. I would swim in Lake Yuron and hunt in the Vulcan Forge."

She looks at him contemplatively. "You miss Vulcan, don't you?"

His brow barely creases. "I possess many memories of Vulcan. A legion of positive remembrances from my childhood, and several that were not so kind. Of the positive memories, I find that many of them center on my excursions onto the planet proper."

"Is there no way for you to return, even briefly?"

"That would be impossible, given my duties for the upcoming months. I must confer with Captain Pike about the crew selection of the _USS Enterprise_—"

Nyota says nothing at this, only feeling her chest leap at the possibility of serving on the vessel.

"—And given the reactions of the elders to my decision to join Starfleet Academy, it would be logical to assume my return would be…" He stops talking and his eyes shift slightly downward, as if searching for the right sentiments. "My return would be unwelcome."

Nyota does not know what to say at first. She chooses to turn the conversation to a more positive track. "What about the other happier memories of your world?"

The street light that they pass catches the slight flexion in his jaw right before he speaks. "They would be of my parents. My mother, in particular." There is a beat where neither of them speak.

"This is not an appropriate conversation one would have with a peer, especially on Vulcan."

Nyota frames her thoughts carefully. "With all due respect to your world and culture, you haven't said anything that I thought was inappropriate. But you don't have to continue if you feel uncomfortable."

"It is not a question of whether or not I feel anything. Feelings are illogical. I only refer to what is considered proper on Vulcan." He looks at the sidewalk ahead of them. Nyota says nothing, wanting not to push him to talk when he is already reluctant to speak.

However, she does not have to wait long.

"My mother provided a different style of parenting, a style not commonly found among other Vulcan families." He makes eye contact with her, his face expressing nothing. "She and I would converse together. Openly and freely."

"Vulcan families don't normally talk?"

Spock's voice is calm as he clarifies. "It was the subject of our discussions that was different from other Vulcans. We discussed emotions and feelings. I would speak about matters that troubled me, and she would provide a human perspective to my experiences."

"Oh," she says softly. He walks further, albeit slowly. She keeps pace with him, her eyes fixed on his profile. "Did it help you?"

"There were times that the conversations with my mother aided me in ways the Vulcan methods could not. Although I frequently turned to the ways of my father's people to deal with situations that troubled me, the talks with my mother afforded a different kind of satisfaction."

She hums. "My family talks. A lot." She smiles, chuckling behind her closed lips when he looks at her. "One could say that they didn't know a thing about boundaries. My mother and my aunt knew exactly when something bothered me, and they'd always try to get me to talk. Which… I didn't always do. Occasionally, when someone tells me to do one thing, I'm compelled to do the opposite."

Spock's brow furrows. "Such a response is illogical. It would also lead to potential conflicts between yourself and your commanding officers."

She laughs. "I don't make a practice out of it. I've learned to control that side of me professionally. It still pops up when I'm with friends and family…" Her voice trails off; of course it is natural to think about her father, as the conversation at dinner had turned to him briefly. But Nyota knows she is now composed enough to speak again.

"When my father disappeared, I stopped being so obstinate. Our family was dealing with a lot, and I didn't want to add to the turmoil. But," she says with a rueful smile, "when I got to Starfleet, a little of it came back. I do know when to use it and when not to. So, if I were to… oh, let's say work with Captain Pike on the _USS Enterprise_—"

Spock stops walking. He looks at her with a raised eyebrow. She meets his expression with a serious one, but her lips twitched.

"_If_ I were to work with Captain Pike on his ship, I would most certainly follow his instructions to the letter, while offering my expertise on whatever he needed."

"Am I correct in assuming that you are attempting to give me a hint as to your qualifications to work on the _Enterprise_?"

This time, she cocks her eyebrow sharply. "I thought my qualifications and my talents were already well known to you."

"Yes, that is not being disputed—"

"I'm only making sure you remember I still hope to be considered for her."

"As you are one of the Academy's finest students, your qualifications will certainly be reviewed, along with your peers'. However, from a logical perspective, it would not benefit the Federation to have all of our top graduates onboard one vessel."

She takes a deep breath through her nose, feeling her nostrils expand. For a being gifted with such intelligence, such skills of observation, sometimes Spock could be completely obtuse. Nyota chances a step forward, closing the gap between them by half a foot. The night's breeze swirls around them, gently smoothing her checks. She can see Spock's black hair, always perfectly combed and cut, blow ever so slightly in the light wind.

"Do you yourself have any issues about me serving on the _Enterprise_ with you?"

The skin of his forehead creases ever so subtly, and his head tilts just to the left. "Any issues, if they were to exist, would be irrelevant to your assignment on any vessel, if that vessel was deemed to be the most appropriate assignment for you."

A warning, brief and quick, fills her head. Only for a second. She pushes it away, determined to do something about this Spock situation. Tonight has felt far too much like an actual date, and perhaps that is not a wholly inaccurate read of their dynamic.

"What I mean is, is there _anything_ at all that might make you have doubts of us serving together on the _Enterprise_?" Nyota takes one more step; she cannot be any less than six inches from him. His eyes shift up and scan the surrounding area around them. They are next to a park, and while people walk close to where they stand, they are not recognized.

"Looking for someone?"

Spock's eyes lower to meet hers. He does not back away. "I was merely ascertaining whether there are other Academy personnel in the vicinity." His voice is soft, softer than she has ever heard him.

"Why would you do that?" She leans even closer.

"Because it would not be wise for our conversation to be overheard." His voice has a definite mellow quality to it, one that it does not normally have.

Nyota refuses to let up. She rubs her hands together, knowing that she shakes from her nerves. "We aren't discussing anything that's improper, Spock."

"But that does not mean that we will not. I sense that, due to the tone of our conversation, as well as our physical proximity to each other—"

She raises her eyebrow at him, a gesture which throws him for a split second.

"Quite possibly, this may lead to—"

"Spock," Nyota interrupts, "I apologize for interrupting, but can I ask you something?"

Spock blinks and nods. "Yes, you may."

She looks at her hands, flexing them, thinking through what she wants to say. Slowly, she brings her right hand up, her left still clutching her purse tight. She holds it up between them. "What would happen if you touched my hand?"

He blinks again, but his face remains otherwise calm. "Vulcans possess telepathic abilities. Tactile contact is the best medium through which our telepathy may be utilized. Should there be any physical contact between the two of us, it would create a brief, but mutual empathic exchange."

"An empathic exchange?"

Spock bows his head. "It would not be as strong as a true mind meld, but the experience would be shared."

Swallowing, Nyota looks at her hand, and then up at Spock's face. He is closer to her than he has ever been. Her heart races, threatening to burst through her chest. She can hear each beat, the pulse of her blood rushing to her head.

She looks right into his eyes, at his calm, collected expression. It is not fair that he can stand before her so still and impassive and not betray a single emotion. It is not fair that she cannot be around him without losing her breath. Her mind screams out at her to do it, to gird herself and seize the day.

Before she can stop herself, her hand reaches up to his face. Nyota readies herself for whatever may happen. She touches his cheek, the shock of making contact almost, _almost_ stopping her.

But the sensation, the warmth that envelops her when her hands meet his skin only makes this easier. As does his mouth parting a millimeter, allowing a single breath to escape—

She presses her lips against his.

An odd, but pleasant sensation envelops Nyota. She cannot surmise what this feeling is at first, because the only thought that fills her mind is that she, Nyota Upenda Uhura, is kissing Commander Spock. His lips are surprisingly soft and he still smells of the spices from the restaurant and his own Vulcan tuber. Her hand lingers on his face as she continues to kiss his lips; he does not reach for her hand or embrace her, but there is this feeling, indescribable, undefined. She cannot identify it at first… but suddenly it hits her.

He is kissing her back. And the feeling, the mysterious, warm feeling that surrounded her the moment her skin touched his, swells within Nyota. She knows what it is.

Desire. And it is, most definitely, reciprocal.

The kiss does not last long. Nyota breaks the contact and she stands back, opening her eyes, her right hand still cupping his cheek. She withdraws it quickly, not knowing what to say. Spock meets her eyes, his face revealing nothing. But she notices that his eyes are wider, minutely so, than usual.

She should say something. She _wants_ to say something. Does she speak as if nothing happened between them? Does she apologize for her inappropriate actions? Does she force him to address it, or does she…?

Before she can talk, she watches the corner of Spock's mouth slowly draw upward. His face relaxes, and it gives him a hint of amusement to his features. His expression is certainly not as overt as a human's, but for Spock, even the smallest changes can reveal so very much.

"Nyota, I do believe we have much to discuss."

She nods and cautiously smiles. "Apparently, we do."


	7. part seven

**A/N:** Another big THANK YOU!! to **mrstater** for her beta-reading and her suggestions. I've got no idea how many parts this is going to be, but I'm really enjoying writing Nyota's last few months at Starfleet with Gaila and Kirk and McCoy. And, of course, with Spock. I'm expanding the cast a little bit in the next part; I've decided I really like writing the women of Star Trek too. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

**Part Seven: From the Beginning**

"I hate to bother you, but Commander Kyle demanded the reports today, and I can't go into his office empty-handed."

Nyota's voice is louder than it normal, but not due to anger or frustration. She matches Spock's long, elegant strides as they round the corner and head toward his office. She forces the air out of her lungs as she moves, causing the volume of her voice to increase.

There are other cadets around them, and using Commander Kyle as an excuse to see Spock for something as innocent as transmission quality reports would stifle any gossip floating around about them. Because Nyota knows that the cadets talk, and Gaila warns her often about who is saying what about her and Spock these days.

Gaila then threatens to kick all their asses; she also plots with Nyota their revenge on the Starfleet scuttlebutt network.

"No, Cadet Uhura," he says dispassionately, holding his tablet behind his back, "you should not return to Commander Kyle with nothing. I have the reports he requested in my office." Spock touches the pad next to the entrance and the door slides open. "Come inside." He stands back and allows her to enter first. Nyota walks into the dim room. She hears a slide and the _beep_ of the door shutting behind her. There is a click as the entrance's lock is engaged. His office is still dim, as the windows are shaded and practically opaque.

"Computer, decrease window opacity by fifty-five-point-seven percent."

Upon Spock's command, the windows lighten to allow a small amount of sunlight to enter the room.

Turning around, Nyota lets out a breath. "Good morning, Spock." She smiles; she can feel herself aglow.

Spock walks toward her, his lip drawn to the right side of his face, almost — _almost_ — as if he was grinning. "Would I be accurate in my assumptions that Commander Kyle did not request any reports, and this was an excuse employed so that we may see each other, albeit briefly, this morning?"

She approaches him, her smile now easing into a gentle smirk. "Actually, he was demanding them yesterday." She laughs as he arches his eyebrow. "But I didn't mind asking you for them myself."

His face is relaxed as he replies. "I have no objections to your methods, Nyota. To see you this morning after having no formal plans to see you so soon after our dinner is quite satisfying."

"You didn't think you'd see me today?"

"I had expected our paths to cross at some point. When they did, I was planning to inquire whether you had any interest in viewing the exhibit of ancient Vulcan artifacts on display at the Institute. That is, if you have not viewed them yet?"

Nyota does not tell Spock that she drug a protesting Gaila to the exhibit after it was installed last year. Instead, she maintains her casual demeanor, nods and says, "I'd love to go. Were you thinking about this weekend?"

"I was. We can discuss the details at a later time."

"Don't forget," she says, practically standing underneath him, still smiling at him, "I still want to learn about the Vulcan lute. I never had any idea that you were musically inclined. You can teach me how to play."

"It is not common practice to teach humans how to play our instruments."

Nyota has to stifle a laugh; she does not think Spock quite understands "double entendres." She also quietly curses Gaila for corrupting her mind so thoroughly. She keeps her voice as innocent as possible. "But you could still show me how you play it, can't you?"

He nods once. "Of course. I only meant that such training is not orthodox in our culture. However, exceptions can be made."

Spock leans in, ever so subtly, toward her.

"May I kiss you again, Spock?"

"You ask for my permission now? You did not require it Saturday night."

She laughs a little bit, averting her eyes to the ground. "I just had to go for it then, you know?" Nyota clears her throat. "I imagine that you wish it had gone a bit differently, that I should've asked for your permission."

She is startled when he wraps his hand around her arm. His touch is firm, but gentle. "I have no such wish. For me, it was—"

"Satisfactory?" It seems to be his favorite word when something pleases him.

"Quite pleasurable." His hand slowly moves up until it touches her face, much as she did Saturday night. "If I have any regrets, it is that I did not do more to demonstrate my regard for you, or to initiate more personal, more intimate contact."

She sighs as she feels the warm comfort of his touch again. "The fact that you didn't run and we talked about it afterwards confirmed that that you enjoyed it."

He leans forward another inch, his hand still cupping her cheek. "Still. Vulcans do not engage in demonstrations of emotions. It is something you may find different, even unpleasant, compared to your interactions with human males." For the briefest second, Spock's eyes appear dark, troubled. After a breath, the darkness clears. "I will understand if this deters you from continuing to seek out my company."

Nyota reaches up and touches his lips with her fingers. "I like _you_, Spock. I want your company. And I think you should kiss me now."

With that, he complies.

* * *

Gaila wiggles her eyebrows when Nyota fills her in.

"Hm… it seems as if you've got Mr. Sexy Smarty Pants—"

This earns a smack from Nyota.

"_Ow_! Wrapped around your finger."

"Would you keep it down, Gaila?" Nyota asks chidingly. "We're out in public."

"Fine! Remember, I wasn't the one who brought up the commander in the first place."

Nyota knows she is right. They are walking toward the mess hall, and she could not wait to tell Gaila about that morning.

It is rather like playing with fire, Nyota thinks as she takes a tray and listens to Gaila gab about all things male-related… "After all, I've got no idea how long it's been since your last relationship. You should be thankful that you can benefit from my expertise."

"Gaila, if there is one thing I'm certain your expertise won't cover, it's being in a relationship with a Vulcan."

However, her roommate ignores her and plows forward with her speech as she tears into a roll. Despite her chatty, ostentatious manner, Nyota knows Gaila is trustworthy. Mostly. At least, she is trustworthy with the things Nyota tells her. Having a female Orion roommate for these past three years, despite their divergent personalities, has proved to be particularly fortunate when she needed a confidante about her feelings for Spock. Orion women share intensely strong familial and peer-based bonds with one another; they view males as the weaker sex, valuable mostly for sexual and procreative needs. Being away from her home world for so long, and being virtually the only Orion woman in the Academy, Gaila found herself in dire need of a female companion. She needed to forge a sisterhood with another peer, or else suffer the next few years. After some stumbling blocks, she found that sisterhood with Nyota, and Nyota realized the feeling was mutual.

When Nyota finally confessed her attraction to the Vulcan commander to her roommate, Gaila vowed to take the secret to her grave, although the Orion stopped short from promising to not tease her about it.

In the middle of Gaila's vulgar explanation about various techniques that an Orion woman can do to her mate with both her tongue and her fingers, Nyota spies Cadet Luke Aldren at another table. He is pointing at her as he talks to his friends, the sneer on his face telling her that the topic is about her, and it is unpleasant.

She leans forward. "Do you have a problem, Aldren?"

Gaila stops talking and eyes Nyota and the other cadet. Aldren smirks. "Nope," he drawls. "No problems, although we're surprised to see you here without your pointy-eared boyfriend."

Nyota clenches her teeth, but she feels her heart accelerate. Normally, she gets along fine with Aldren, save for the usual, healthy academic competition. Lately, though, he has been copping an attitude with her. She and Gaila both suspected that it must stem from some professional jealousy, blaming it on whatever relationship he thinks she has with Commander Spock. Regardless of whether or not it is true.

Nyota can barely stand to look at him at the moment; his nasty smile makes her want to flick her spoon into his face.

"My _boyfriend_?" she hisses.

"Yeah. You know who I'm talking about."

She suspects he cannot and will not say Spock's name, in case he believes he is wrong. But he can spread innuendo and accusations that Nyota is earning her successes to a close relationship with the commander rather than on her own merits.

For all of her late nights, her long weekends spent in the language labs and in the Academy's libraries studying to get to the top of her class, Nyota wants to rip his head off and shove it right up his—

He stands up at his table, his friends watching him and looking at Nyota with smug anger. Leaning forward on his fists, he aims his words right at her. "I'm just wondering why you keep getting all the jobs in the department. We're _all_ wondering that."

"Gaila," she says, poking at her friend, "let's go." However, Gaila's attention is focused on her PADD, and not on the two arguing cadets. Aldren continues blathering away.

"How are we supposed to compete with you, Uhura? When we're not sleeping our way up the Starfleet ladder."

_Oh, it's on!_

Nyota stomps over to Aldren. She knows if she protests too much, it could raise suspicions about her and Spock, but his slander is far too much to bear.

She gets up in his face. "You've got something to say to me, Aldren? Say it! But if you're going to throw accusations in my face, then you'd better be able to back them up." She presses her face closer to his, staring at him with a furious glare. "Or are you just pissed that I'm better than you are in practically every xenolinguistics class that we've taken together? That _I_ got the gold rating at the Oxford Linguistics Invitational, and you came away with the bronze?"

The other cadets all stop eating and stare at the showdown. There are a few personnel watching; Spock is, thankfully, not among them. Before Aldren can respond, an arm goes around his shoulders — and hers as well. Nyota stares into the face of her friend.

"Now, now," Gaila says, giving them both a shake, "can't you two crazy kids learn to get along?"

"I have a very hard time staying quiet when my intelligence is called into question, Gaila."

"Come on, Nyota," Gaila replies exaggeratedly. "Cut Aldren some slack. After all—" She turns a pair of sharp eyes onto him. "Some men can't help it."

Aldren raises his eyebrow. "Help what?"

Gaila brings her arm up over Nyota's head and faces the other cadet with fluttering eyes and a saucy grin. "That certain _inadequacies_ in one area bleed into another."

"B-b-but… I-I… I don't—"

"Luke, it's okay. I don't believe _all_ of the rumors from the men's locker room about you! Some, sure, but not all."

Nyota plays along and feigns ignorance, but her brow is still lowered in anger. "But Gaila, whatever do you mean?"

Gaila hums and moves her finger down through the air. "_Ping! Ping! PING!_" Her sound effects are slow, precise, and her finger points right at Aldren's crotch.

"Tricorder readings set to... _miniscule_!"

His friends, and the surrounding tables, snicker at him and Nyota howls in laughter.

"Not that we've ever done anything before." Gaila continues. "I do have some standards you know. I do have to consider appearance, temperament…. _size_." She flashes a slightly smug, mostly triumphant grin at a red-faced, spluttering Aldren.

"I've… I've _never_! We've never! That's none of your business!"

Suddenly, the Orion shoves her PADD into Aldren's face. "Maybe next time you want to cut down someone's intellect, you'll pick someone who's actually worse than you in your classes. See this?" Her finger points at his name and his rank in the department. "Your name is _below_ Nyota's. Not above hers. _Be_-low! She's scored higher than you for the past two years now, and yet, you somehow think that she doesn't deserve her two aideships?" Gaila snorts. "Men! And as her roommate, I can tell you that she spends all her time studying, not ordering the latest off-planet fad guaranteed to — 'increase – your – size!'" She makes sure to emphasize, rather loudly, the last three words, and the cadets nearest them erupt in laughter and scattered applause. Gaila continues to stare at Aldren as she grabs Nyota's arm, shoves the PADD back into her bag and in a swift motion, lifts both hers and Nyota's bags off the floor.

Once they leave the Mess Hall, she lets go of Nyota's arm.

"The nerve of—!" Nyota glares back at the hall.

Gaila shakes her head; she is clearly angry about the confrontation. "Stupid – patriarchal – society! Men thinking they're so freaking entitled to everything and can't handle a woman doing better than them? And Aldren of all people! I can't believe he went there! _Pfft_!"

"By the way, how did you get that information? About our grades? And get it so quickly?"

Gaila hooks her arms around Nyota's. "A computer genius does not reveal her secrets. Besides, you mess with my Nyota, you're gonna get hurt!" The reply leaves Nyota speechless, but she and Gaila smile all the way until they are outside.

* * *

They walk from the Federation's Institute of Multi-Planetary History and Sciences. Spock verbalizes his approval of newly installed Vulcan exhibition. And, indeed, the collection was impressive, in its scope of capturing Vulcan history and in its logical presentation of the artifacts as a testament to the evolution of the species from the proto-Awakening era to the post-Awakening period to the present.

Nyota, however, remains distracted. Aldren's insults from earlier in the week continue to haunt her, and she cannot stop thinking about what the other cadets might be saying behind their backs. The day is still bright, and they walk past bright green trees and green grass. The sidewalks are moderately busy, and had Nyota's head been entirely in the present, she would have noticed more than a few people giving them odd looks, as they walked.

As Spock discusses his observations of the artifacts, Nyota smiles politely. She nods and agrees with him, but her mind is unfocused and stuck on a single, persistent thought, as if a message or transmission caught in a loop.

"I sense that something troubles you, Nyota."

"Oh… sorry," she says, shaking her head. "I guess I've been a bit sidetracked."

Spock places his hand on her back and gently guides her to a nearby bench. "There are a number of options available to relieve your anxieties. I would not impose any one of them upon you, but I shall remain present and assist with anything you deem necessary."

She blinks at him, surprised, but she does not protest as she takes a seat. Mulling over his words, she smiles. She cannot believe that she can be so charmed by his reasoning, and even his tone, although there is no emotion registering in his voice. However, he so much as admits that he will stay here for whatever she may need.

Nyota takes a breath. She does not know how Spock will react to what has been on her mind, but since it involves him, she might as well tell him. "Earlier this week, I had a run-in with another cadet, in the mess hall. Basically, the little—" She bites her tongue, stopping herself from calling Aldren a "bastard". "Basically, he insulted my intelligence. He _insinuated_," she says, practically spitting out the word, "that I did not properly earn my aideships."

Spock nods. "I see."

"I would've smacked him, but Gaila helped me set the record straight."

His eyebrow suddenly flies up, indicating surprise. "Did she? Fascinating."

Nyota chuckles ruefully. "No one should ever underestimate her computer skills. Ever. She knows how to get any information you ask for. Any at all."

Spock nods once. "I am aware that it was Cadet Aldren, and I am further aware of his statements toward you."

She gapes at him. "You are?"

"Commander Sun approached me after the confrontation and divulged the substance of Aldren's protests. That he accused you of inappropriate behavior with an unnamed professor — although there was enough information to conjecture that the cadet was referring to me — in order to gain an advantage in the Academy."

Her nostrils flare. "It sounds even worse coming from you without all the terrible innuendo." Nyota feels her frustration keenly.

"There is no method by which one can rationally temper such sentiments. Only by stating them directly can one confront the accusation and defend against it."

"But that's not going to be the end of it, Spock. You can show them all the proof in the world that they're wrong, but they'll just keep coming back with more and more, and distract and annoy. It's likely that the more he keeps saying anything, the greater the chance we'll get into trouble. _You'll_ get into trouble."

"I can assure you that, in accordance to the relevant Starfleet Codes, we have done nothing wrong." There is no indication that he feels nervous or apprehensive or bothered. There is no indication that he feels anything at all. "The acknowledgment of our mutual preference for one another occurred after you ceased working for me. Furthermore, I only had your qualifications, your academic record, and your references in mind when I requested you to be my aide. You were the only candidate to find the error in my report. You successfully completed each step of the application process on your own merits. Therefore, you were not advanced because of any personal inclination that may or may not have existed on my part during that time."

She gazes at him shiftily, as if she is suspicious of him, but a teasing smile plays across her lips. "You _are_ being honest with me, Spock?"

He bows his head. "I cannot lie. I can only speak the truth. Your intelligence and your hard work have taken you far in the Academy." Spock blinks once. "I will admit that both qualities have strengthened my personal appreciation of you."

Nyota's face flushes, but she smiles broadly. "It's nice to be appreciated for my mind."

Spock's face remains composed and emotionless and he says nothing in reply. This does not faze her, because his admission — that her intelligence attracts him — is far more than any Vulcan would normally admit. The ensuing silence gives her an opportunity to consider things. Her brow creases as she says what is still bothering her.

"Unfortunately, it's not going to go away. Honestly, people will think whatever they want to think, and say whatever they want to say. I don't know if they really care that you only ever considered my actual qualifications. If they think you and I have some special relationship with each other, then that's what they'll go with."

He nods twice before he says anything further. "There is one true solution to this problem."

"And that is—"

"That we do not see each other anymore outside of the Academy."

Nyota freezes, her eyes narrow. "You want to end this before we even get started?"

"It would ensure that I would not be accused of favoritism and—"

She shakes her head before he can finish.

"And your peers would not accuse you of achieving your goals through any means other than your own merits."

"No." Her decisive tone surprises her; Spock raises his eyebrow in response. "Forget it. Whatever this is between us, I like it. I like _you_, despite the fact that the Academy discourages relationships between cadets and instructors." She stares at him with a determination that no shield could withstand. "I tried to follow the rules, but I kissed you first. And then you kissed me back. So the way I see it, neither of us could abide by the ethical code, could we?"

"Apparently not." She does not miss the corner of his mouth barely twitch. Spock faces her, his hands covering his knees. "There may be another alternative."

"I'd love to hear any solution that doesn't involve us not seeing each other."

"We could approach the Academy's council and disclose our relationship to them. This would mitigate any future damage to either of our reputations should further questions arise."

Nyota cannot hide her doubt. Telling the council about her and Spock seems fraught with peril for both of them. They might ask a ton of questions and maybe even prevent her from being selected for the _Enterprise_.

"Um… I don't know. That could backfire big time, couldn't it?"

"In situations like this, honesty may be the most effective option to neutralize the effect of an intentional and malicious disclosure other cadets or Academy personnel may attempt."

She grimaces. "Spock, it seems—" Her eyes meet his.

"It seems what, Nyota?"

She bites the inside of her cheek. "It seems like we're asking for the Academy to punish us. They could still choose dismissal because we decided to hell with the rules."

Spock's eyes scan the area around them, even while his face remains as blank as empty canvas. He does not scoot closer, but he leans forward, his back still straight, his gaze direct and penetrating. "I am working under the assumption," he says, his voice low and steady, "that they will not do anything more than lecture us on the positives and negatives of cadet-instructor relationships." Spock speaks with a faint smoothness to it. His voice comforts her, more so than even his normal, composed tone. Nyota realizes he uses it more and more in their interactions away from the Academy. It is the tone he reserves for his more private moments.

The realization makes her feel quite warm and very comforted.

"That's a big assumption."

"And I will remind the council that you are no longer my student or my aide. According to the most literal interpretation of the Starfleet Code of Ethical Conduct, a relationship between a cadet and an instructor is not precluded if that relationship occurs after the cadet leaves the instructor's tutelage and training."

She straightens her back and eyes him with dubious amusement. "You've been thinking about this, haven't you?"

"I am thorough in my research, Nyota."

This time, she arches her eyebrow at him, more playfully than anything else. "Maybe you are onto something. Perhaps we can disclose to the council that we are in a relationship and there wouldn't be any retaliation." She feels warm at the thought. If they tried it, if they informed the higher-ups and they practiced discretion, it could eliminate the harmful effects if someone else ratted them out.

"If you do not agree, we do not have to tell them."

Her mouth opens, and for three seconds, she does not speak. She thinks through the other alternatives, none of which strike her as better than divulging the information to the council themselves.

Making her decision, Nyota closes her mouth and looks around them. Once assured that no one who should not see them together is around, she leans forward and places a gentle kiss on his lips.

Spock's face does not move, nor does it change. But his own lips respond to the contact, and Nyota feels that same uplifting swell, that wave of emotion extending beyond him, beyond her, meeting somewhere in the middle. It is the weirdest thing she has ever experienced…

And yet, it is somehow wonderful too.

She breaks the kiss first, but she still leans forward, smiling coyly, her eyes lingering on his face, his lips, his eyes and brow and ears.

"Spock, you can put me down for a 'yes, I agree.'"

"A 'yes, I agree?'" he repeats.

"Mm-hm. To telling the council. Or do you need my answer again?"

"There is a chance I did not understand it the first time. Perhaps further clarification is required."

"Hm… indeed." She mumbles the words softly against his lips.

* * *

She walks across campus, her mind distracted. Her attention is torn between recounting the procedures for some new noise control techniques being beaten into her brain by Douglas Kyle, and the meeting with the council to disclose her relationship with Spock, arranged at the commander's request.

Nyota has no idea what to expect from the discussions with the council. She has practiced what she should say with Gaila, usually taking the opposite advice from whatever Gaila offered. Which was, of course, rather inappropriate.

She strides across the campus, walking across the well-trodden path between her and Gaila's apartment and the DeGrasse Tyson Building, the location of the Academy's library. She pushes past dawdling groups on the sidewalk, absent-mindedly waving at other cadets sitting in the grass. She walks past the large statue of Dr. Zefram Cochrane and the Vulcan Sorik which commemorates first contact, and she is just about to approach the building, when—

"Nyota!"

Her foot stops on the bottom step. She turns and sees Leonard McCoy running toward her. As he reaches her, he holds up his finger and lowers his head to catch his breath.

"McCoy? Are you all right?"

He takes a few more deep breaths and lifts his head up, swallowing as he does so. "H-have… you seen… J-Jim?"

Her forehead creases. "Jim Kirk?" McCoy nods. Her eyes shift to the right. "No, I haven't seen him recently."

He hits his leg so hard Nyota can hear the _smack_. "Dammit!"

"Is something wrong? McCoy, did something happen?" Nyota is surprised to hear worry in her own voice.

"Jim hasn't been himself since the damn _Kobayashi Maru_," Bones admits, shaking his head. "He hasn't been sleeping well. His eating habits are shit, and he's been drinking a lot more. I don't even think he came back to our apartment last night."

Nyota clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "I don't really see how any of this is different than before."

Bones looks at her with dark eyes. "Well, he's drinking alone in the apartment and I usually know when he's been with a girl — or a female humanoid."

She finds this hard to believe. "How would you know, unless he's with them in your room?" He flashes her a knowing expression. "Ew!" she exclaims with a squeak.

"Yeah. And, unfortunately, Jim's got a big mouth too. He likes to talk." McCoy rolls his eyes. "_And_ describe. Jackass." He nods toward the library. "You going in?"

"Yeah. Come on. We can talk more inside."

McCoy walks next to her as they enter the enormous, rotund lobby. There is a model of the Milky Way, hovering in the middle, suspended by state-of-the-art levitation hydraulics. They walk around it and continue across the floor, with its mosaic representation of the Sol System. They pass the walls, filled with the names of space missions and crews from the 1960s to the present day.

"I don't know, Nyota," he says, his tone defeated. "I've known and lived with him for two years now, and I've never seen him like this. He's a wreck. A total wreck!"

She shakes her head. "But he knows that the simulation is the hardest one at Starfleet. I have a friend who works the programming, and she says that no one's passed it in at least four years."

The right side of Bones' face scrunches together. "Well, I think he's taking it personal."

Nyota stares at him, utterly confused. "Personal?"

"He hasn't really talked to me about it." McCoy holds open the door leading into the main floor of the massive library, "but I think it has something to do with his father."

This admission surprises Nyota. She knows full well the story of George Kirk and the _USS Kelvin_. She knows she takes for granted that that man is James T. Kirk's father; it is often hard to reconcile that someone so damn arrogant could be the son of a true hero.

"Why would he even make that connection?" She walks through the doorway, turning around to talk to Bones. "The _Kobayashi Maru_ preceded the _Kelvin_ by almost a decade."

"It's just me doing a little armchair psychology, but look at the similarities, the details of the scenario." He ticks off each point. "An impossible circumstance, an unbeatable enemy, a life-or-death decision to make." He lets the door shut behind him, dropping his voice to barely a whisper. "It could've hit him in a really weird place. I heard him mentioning the _Kelvin_ shortly after the test. I thought he was thinking about some maneuver or strategy or something. But maybe there's more to it than that."

"You think it's about George Kirk?"

McCoy sighs. He rubs his eyes; it is clear that he is tired and fatigued, but he cannot until he knows his friend and roommate is alright. "I don't know for sure, but he's real close to losing it."

Before she can reply, a voice at the library's front desk draws both their attentions. It takes only a few seconds, but Nyota realizes that the voice belongs to Jim Kirk. And he is shouting.

"It's just a_ damn dissertation_! All I want to do is check the thing out."

Nyota and McCoy look at each other, distressed, and they run over to see what is wrong.

"And we have a policy in the library, Cadet Kirk; dissertations are non-circulating reference materials—"

Kirk slaps his palm flat on the counter. He points a finger at the cover of the book. "Excuse me, but in case you're illiterate, those words, right there? _U – S – S – Kelvin_. As in the ship _my – father – LOST – HIS – LIFE - ON_!" He aims a furious glare back at the librarian. "And the ship _I – WAS – BORN – ON_!!"

"Oh no," McCoy mutters. Nyota and he move closer.

"I'm James Kirk. George Kirk's freakin' son! You realize that he's a major part of Captain Pike's dissertation, don't you? You realize that without him, there wouldn't _be any_ Captain Pike dissertation!"

"Jim—"

"Bones!" Kirk exclaims, shrugging the doctor's hand off of him. "These idiots don't even know who the hell I am."

McCoy grimaces, trying to figure out how to handle his friend. Kirk does not realize Nyota is with him; for the first time since the simulation, she can see large, grey bags under his eyes, and a couple of fresh bruises on his face, including one bandage on his brow.

He looks like hell.

McCoy subtly gestures for her to stand beside Kirk; she does so without drawing his notice. Kirk continues to babble on about needing to look at the dissertation, a manual—

"Anything! The _Kobayashi Maru_'s been around long enough for someone to have written about it, right?"

"Jim, you're in a library, and you're causing a scene." Bones tries to calm him down, but his attempts have no affect on Kirk.

"You know the _Kobayashi Maru_ is bullshit!" A number of students, absorbed deep in their books and computers, look up at the cadet's exclamation. "My own dad saved 800 people's lives that day, and you're telling me, George's Kirk's son, that I can't make it out of a stupid simulation alive? Come on, Bones."

Nyota grabs his arm, wanting him to shut up before security escorts him out. "Jim, look," Nyota says gently, but urgently, "you're working yourself into a state. You need to rest."

"No, I don't need to rest. And what the hell are you doing here?" He tears his arm away from her.

"I'm here helping McCoy find you. He was worried, and asked me if I've seen—"

She does not even see McCoy whip out the hypospray behind Jim's back. In a couple of quick, graceless moves, the doctor jabs the device against Kirk's neck and pulls the trigger. There is a puff as Bones injects his friend.

Nyota gasps as Jim slaps at his neck. He stares disbelievingly at him.

"Bones! What the hell didja—"

The cadet stops talking and his face sags. He falls like a noodle into McCoy's arms. The doctor swings one of Kirk's arms around his head, and nods at Nyota to get his other side. McCoy looks up with a smile, albeit nervous and shaky, at the librarian, who is staring at the scene, startled. "Heh, looks like the late nights finally caught up to him. He just wore himself out. We'll take him back to his room." He winks at her incredulous expression and he turns to Nyota. "Help me."

"What the hell did you give him?" she asks while trying to balance the unconscious Kirk between herself and McCoy, and pulling his deadweight body toward the entrance leading out into the spacious lobby.

"A light sedative. Nothing harmful. At least, nothing near as harmful as those two would've been," McCoy says, nodding at the two burly security officers who were coming over to check on the commotion. The librarian gestures at them, in a manner suggesting that they are not needed.

The two cadets drag Kirk back to the apartment that he shares with McCoy in silence. They waste no energy by talking, since it was taking all of their strength to hoist Jim Kirk's limp mass between them.

"Thanks. I can get him from here," McCoy offers when they arrive at the door. Nyota bows her head, freeing Jim's arm from her body, sore and sweating from the exertion. The doctor shuffles a bit and Kirk's head swoops. A groan escapes from him.

Nyota flashes a brief, sad smile at McCoy. He returns the gesture. And, oddly enough, he laughs.

"I promise I'll tuck him into bed and read him a story. If he's a good boy, I'll give him warm milk and cookies."

She chuckles. "Leonard McCoy."

"What?"

"He's incredibly lucky to have a friend like you."

He snorts and rolls his eyes as he punches his ID number with his free hand. "You don't have to tell me that. I _know_ I'm a damn good friend. In you go, you hotheaded idiot!" he grunts, hauling Jim Kirk's moaning body into the open building.


	8. part eight

**A/N: **Again, big thanks to **mrstater** for her beta-read. As to The Beatles reference; I wouldn't have included it if Alan Dean Foster hadn't written it in his novelization. Apparently, the Vulcan Learning Center did test Spock on the work of Lennon and McCartney… in the book at least. And Admiral Richard Barnett was Tyler Perry's character in the movie. I've started a McCoy/Chapel fic, that you can find here: "Before, During, and After" at www dot fanfiction dot net/s/5337379/1/Before_During_and_After. Thank you to everyone who's put this on alerts and favorites and who have reviewed. I can't tell you how much I appreciate the support!

I may be taking a different route with Janice Rand than canon suggests, but this story's set in the movieverse. I'll be adding to her character too. In my experience, every girl has a friend like Janice, and I was no exception ;-)

* * *

**Part Eight: Trouble in Paradise**

Admiral Richard Barnett's office is clean, although the walls are filled with plaques and awards and certificates. She sees several pictures of his two children and his wife, some taken at the family's house in Brooklyn. His wife, of course, is the lauded Admiral Olivia Barnett, the first African-American female captain in Starfleet, currently stationed at Starbase 20. The bookshelves are filled with a mix of antique books and items from the admiral's travels, including copies of _The Art of War_, translated in both Andorian Prime and Vulcan Prime. On the top of the bookshelf, on a dark base, are two holographic representations, one of Cape Town and the other of Table Mountain.

Nyota does not feel comforted. This is her first meeting with the admiral — indeed, _any_ admiral — and they will be discussing some inconveniently private matters.

The chair next to her is occupied by a familiar, tall, black-haired man with pointed ears. She does not smile. She keeps her face as straight as possible. This meeting will affect their futures at the Academy, and if one thing goes wrong, that could be the end of their careers altogether. The best thing for both of them is to maintain professionalism, despite the fact that they will be discussing their relationship.

Spock remains focused on the superior officer as Admiral Barnett takes his seat. For the briefest moment, the dark centers of his eyes flicker to meet hers, and in the moment that passes, she feels her anxiety lessen. There is that connection; they are in this together, whatever may occur.

Barnett leans back in his office chair. "Cadet Uhura, given the nature of this meeting, I want to assure you that, for the moment, everything we say in here is confidential."

"I appreciate that, sir."

He gets right to business. "Commander Spock has already approached me with the main problem. According to him, you have both mutually agreed to enter into a personal relationship, a de facto violation of Starfleet's Code of Ethical Conduct regulation fifteen three-five." Barnett peers unnervingly at Nyota. "Since I have nothing but full faith in Commander Spock's integrity and see no reason as to why he would fabricate something like this, I assume he's telling the truth."

She looks at Spock. He does nothing, only appears to wait for her to acknowledge their relationship. Barnett waits for her reply as well. She nods twice, very slowly, feeling her stomach roil nervously. "Yes, sir. I am — I mean we, Commander Spock and I — are seeing each other. We have been for almost four weeks now." She thanks the stars that she is not standing, lest her legs turn to jelly and she pass out.

"Three-point-two-nine weeks, to be precise."

She whips her head around. "_Precisely_? Really?"

"That detail may assist in determining whether any rules have been irreparably contravened, and whether the Academy requires disciplinary proceedings."

He is not being unreasonable, but Nyota is nervous, and she tends to snap when she is nervous. "Yes, but isn't the only thing that's important is that we began this after I started working for Commander Kyle? That was four-and-a-half weeks ago."

"The correlation of facts is certainly necessary, but the admiral will appreciate any specifics—"

A cough interrupts Spock. They turn and face Barnett.

"If it wasn't apparent that you two were in a relationship before, it's pretty clear now," the superior officer deadpans. He taps his fingers on the top of his desk. "Mr. Spock, of all the officers currently teaching at the Academy, I would never have pegged you capable of such an action."

She notices the corners of Spock's jaw tighten slightly. "Admiral, I am aware that my behavior is, at least according to Vulcan standards, illogical. Certainly, the elders on my home world would frown upon it, as would the Academy council. However, the circumstances regarding our relationship suggest that we did not violate any rules and it will not affect our work. Therefore, I wish to appeal on my own behalf and, if allowed, the cadet's as well."

Barnett's eyebrow flies up. Nyota notices the corner of the admiral's mouth tweaking. He is trying to stop himself from grinning.

"I'd be more than happy to hear anything you'd want to say," the admiral offers.

She wants to stop Spock; she is not sure if Barnett is looking to ridicule him or if this entire affair is merely for show and the admiral does not actually have any problems with their relationship. But before she can say anything, she feels a gentle but firm pressure surround her wrist. It is Spock's hand, encircling her arm. And feelings of calmness, of certainty envelop her.

"It will be all right," Spock says. "I do know what I am doing."

She gives him a very small, but no less meaningful, wink. "At least you have that going for you."

Spock turns back to Barnett. "Cadet Uhura began working as my aide in February of this year. She was awarded the position when she became the sole candidate to correctly identify and bring to my attention an error that had been planted in a paper. This was part of the selection process, approved in advance by Commander Patel." He bows his head at a shallow angle. "It was, perhaps, logical that Cadet Uhura was the only applicant who successfully performed the exercise. Her talent with xenolinguistics and her exceptional aural sensitivity are well known among the instructors in the department. As is her willingness to contribute verbally during lectures. She has never shown any unease with offering her insights, even if her conclusions were not entirely accurate."

She cannot help it. She knows she needs to be professional, but she gapes at him. "'_If my conclusions were not entirely accurate?_' When have I ever been inaccurate?"

"I refer to your first semester's work in constructive verbalization. While your first attempts at identification and production of the sound structures were admirable, your work suffered from an inexperienced ear. This was logical as you were working with language systems previously unfamiliar to you. According to Commander O'Leary, you did make mistakes during your examinations."

She narrows her eyes. "I received a silver rating in constructive verbalization in my second invitational. _And_ the gold in my last competition!"

"Indeed. But did those honors not follow the work you accomplished during your first semester?"

"Yes, but—"

"And your scores increased in Advanced Constructive Verbalization your second year in the program. Objectively, this is a clear indication that your work did improve, is it not?"

She presses her mouth tightly; she knows he is accurate, remembering how much she struggled with click and whistle theory in Antarean and Bajoran Prime when she first began the program. "I… can't argue with that," she finally says through clenched teeth. Spock looks neither satisfied nor upset at her words.

Barnett holds his hand up. "I don't need to hear anymore. Mr. Spock, you've already explained your history with Cadet Uhura to me prior to her joining us today; I believe I have a full and accurate account of your professional relationship with her as her instructor and mentor.

"Cadet," he says, addressing Nyota, "you're working with Commander Kyle now. And my understanding of the facts suggest that this relationship began after you quit working for Mr. Spock." Barnett audibly exhales and leans back in his chair. He props his head on his hand, his arm bent on his chair's armrest.

"Here's what I believe. I believe Mr. Spock selected you to be his assistant based on your skills. I also believe that Commander Kyle selected you based on your credentials. Douglas Kyle, despite whatever might be said about the man, makes his own decisions. It wouldn't matter if Mr. Spock himself applied to be his assistant — if the commander didn't want Mr. Spock to be his assistant, Mr. Spock would not be his assistant.

"After reviewing your records, Cadet, and after observing your interactions together, I conclude that your relationship does not warrant any disciplinary measures. End of story." Barnett finally allows the smirk that he had been struggling with to finally appear. Nyota closes her eyes for two seconds, allowing herself to feel a little release of tension, broken only by Spock's calm voice.

"Admiral, in regards to the disclosure, how will you proceed?"

Barnett stands up and walks to the entrance to his office. He punches a key and the door slides open. "I'll handle this internally. My only request is that you exercise discretion for the remainder of your time at the Academy. _Both_ of you. Cadet Uhura, if you have told anyone about this, please emphasize the need to keep your relationship discreet. You only have a few more months to go before graduation. I don't want to hear about any impropriety, or else we may need to hold disciplinary proceedings."

Nyota and Spock both stand at attention. "Thank you, Admiral," Nyota says, feeling a sense of cautious relief. "I assure you that discretion will be our top priority."

"Your assistance in this matter is much appreciated, sir." Spock says, his posture like a steel rod. He bows his head in salute.

Barnett lets his smirk broaden into a smile. Nyota notes that there was no cynical edge to it; it is, if anything, understanding. "Well, Mr. Spock, I will say that your decision to come forward about this sensitive matter showed good judgment on your part. You are excused."

Spock gestures for Nyota to exit first, which she does, giving a salutary nod to Barnett. Just as he passes through the entrance, Spock turns to the admiral. "Please send Admiral Barnett my regards the next time you converse with her."

The admiral, still with a smile on his face, nods once. "She'll be very appreciative of that." The entrance slides shut between the men.

Nyota and Spock start walking through the hall of the Sagan Center, the primary location for the council's offices. The interior is pretty, richer in tone than the Xenolinguistics Department's greys and blacks and silvers. The floors are a vibrant red and pieces of art from around Earth and other planets line the corridors. However, Nyota ignores the pleasing aesthetic atmosphere surrounding them because she has to get something off her chest.

"Was all that really necessary? The weaknesses in my constructive verbalization?"

Spock walks with his hands behind his back. "I did not intend for you to react in the manner that you did. However, it appeared to convince the admiral that our relationship has not and will not interfere with our professional duties."

She purses her lips together. "Yes, apparently it did. But why, exactly, did you choose to talk to Admiral Barnett first before approaching the rest of the council?"

"You are unaware that the admiral met his wife at the Academy."

"I don't see why that's important."

Spock's face remains perfectly calm, but there is a slight uplift of his mouth — a subtle grin. "He met her because she was his instructor in Level III Advanced Tactical Analysis, in his third year. Their relationship commenced one year before he graduated."

Nyota falters in her step and her mouth drops wide open. "_Oh_!" She laughs. "Well played, Commander. Well played."

Spock tips his head. "I must return to the language lab to begin work on the most recent transmissions from Sector 30. Are you heading that direction yourself?"

She nods and turns down another corridor toward the entrance. "I need to work on the calibration machines and our amplifiers. Commander Kyle is expecting me in about thirty minutes. However," she says, her voice considerably softer, "I will be free this evening. If you're available—"

"I have no preexisting obligations."

She stops walking, as does the commander. "I don't want to impose on you, Spock. I would like to spend time with you. But if you feel, given this meeting with Barnett, that we should take a break tonight, that would be perfectly fine as well."

There are no other cadets around. The campus is practically bare, save for the weekend staff and maintenance. A few officers have their entrances open, and they sit at their desks, returning messages or otherwise working. Spock and Nyota are in an area free of others. They maintain about a foot-and-a-half space between their persons. Nyota is certain no one would think they are discussing anything not quite professional.

Spock shifts his upper body a couple of degrees toward her. "Perhaps, I can give you a demonstration of the Vulcan lute. We can also dine together. If you feel inclined to do so, that is."

Nyota watches his lips and his eyes. She keeps her smile small, but her she knows, despite his coolness, his lack of open demonstration of his feelings, her own are growing. She is resolved to maintain professionalism, but she also recognizes that it will be difficult. "I do feel inclined, Commander."

* * *

A few days later, Nyota walks to a set of apartments near the Academy campus. Gaila squeals. Nyota cringes and covers her ears, lest she go deaf at the Orion's high-pitched caterwauling.

"Girl's night out! Girl's night out! Girl's night out!" Gaila shouts and claps. She does not care that the other cadets, and probably a few instructors, look at her funny. Or that the personnel might be frowning at Gaila's choice of garb, a clingy, sparkly crimson dress with the bottom hem cut so high and the neckline cut so low, they practically meet in the middle.

Nyota can only shake her head. "Excited much?"

"Oh, Nyota!" Gaila links her arm through hers and pulls her along in quick strides. "Do you realize that, the last time we had a real girl's night out, at a bar and a club, it was, like, a million centuries ago?"

"Or _two weeks_ ago? Are you, by chance, going by the Orion calendar?"

Her roommate waves dismissively at her snarky comment. "I'm just glad that I didn't have to knock you out and drag you from Kyle's lab like I threatened to." Gaila bounds over to the building in front of them and presses a few keys.

"Now, even though your dressed like you're retired or something—"

"I beg your pardon!" Nyota's outfit is decidedly more regulation, as she wears a practical black skirt, boots and a sleeveless top with thick straps. "I look fine. Actually, better than fine!"

"You look like you're going to a funeral, Nyota."

"Well then, I'll just go get my hearse and head back to the lab—"

"No, no, no!" Gaila grabs her arm and pulls her next to her. "It's on tonight!" she continues excitedly. "Rand and I are single again. You and Chapel—"

"Can be your babysitters?"

"No," Gaila says, with a trace of hesitation, "You and Chapel can watch the masters at work, and learn how to have fun. F–U–N. _FUN_!" She curtseys in a very exaggerated manner, making Nyota both laugh and snort loudly.

A sharp buzz cuts through the air. It should be a message from the apartment Janice Rand and Christine Chapel share together. Gaila touches the screen, and promptly shouts into the flat microphone: "_CHAPEL! RAND! GET YOUR ASSES DOWN HERE NOW!_" She pauses. "_STAT!_" she adds, mostly for Christine's benefit.

Nyota does not waste her breath to chastise her. Instead, Christine Chapel's mild voice comes out of the speakers. "_Gaila, what did we tell you about swearing on the comm?_"

Gaila touches the button again. "Chapel, you'd better wear something that shows off the girls, or I swear I'll—"

The door slides open. "Or, you'll what?"

Gaila squeals again and throws her arms around Christine Chapel's long neck. The nursing cadet manages to keep her balance, even though she's being squeezed to death, laughing at the overly dramatic humanoid.

"Oh Nyota, I'm so glad you're coming," Christine sighs in her soft voice. She smirks at the Orion who keeps pressing the button to urge Janice Rand outside. "I don't think I can handle the two of them by myself."

Nyota hugs her friend. "No kidding. Chris, you look great."

"I look like a grandmother compared to you two. You haven't seen the insanity Janice is wearing."

Christine, with her dark jeans and light sweater, is dressed far more conservatively than the other two women. No one can accuse Christine Chapel of not being pretty, though. She is very much so, even if she looks rather naïve, innocent. She has lovely long blond hair, which she wears down tonight in big waves instead of her trademark bun. Her morning jogs keep her in good shape. And she has bright blue eyes that are large and inquisitive, giving her a youthful quality. It surprises people, particularly her instructors, who do not expect the keen intellect and world-weariness beneath the girlish exterior. It is a toughness born from her work as an emergency room nurse at Chicago General, as well as a personal tragedy that she remembers by wearing her fiancée's ring attached to a necklace.

Chapel swats Gaila's hand from the touch screen. "Sweetie, you're going to break that. And be patient. She's coming down right—"

The entrance flies open. Janice Rand stands before them, striking a pose, wearing something that is decidedly not regulation. It is probably expensive, because Janice does have exquisite taste in clothing as she does with men, and it definitely shows way too much skin.

"I'm _HE-ERE_!" she announces, although it is not necessary. "Admit it, I look awesome as hell."

Christine's head falls into her hands as she sighs exasperatedly. Nyota goggles at how much skin her friend decided to bare tonight.

"Janice! You're barely wearing anything."

"I know, I know. It's something I snagged on my last trip to Betazed. Seriously, half of their ceremonies involve nudity of some sort. It's crazy! But, I do look damn good, right?" she asks, smirking. It is more of a rhetorical question. Of course, Janice knows she looks amazing, because she is probably among the hottest female cadets at Starfleet. She is quite smart too, as she is Engineering-track. But out of the four of them, Janice is by far the laziest. She much prefers partying to studies and extra credit, coasting throughout the term and scoring just high enough on the tests to get a good, occasionally, an excellent grade. As the daughter of two Federation ambassadors, she is more than a little well connected. She will have her pick of ships after graduation.

Gaila stares at Janice. "You look _damn_ good." She squeals a third time and wraps Janice up in an embrace, making the stunning blond grin broadly. With her arm still around Janice's shoulders, she grins triumphantly at their other two friends.

"Ladies, it's time to show San Francisco who the hot girls are!"

Nyota and Christine simply stare at each other. "Oh no!" they exclaim in perfect unison.

* * *

Christine brings the bottle of Budweiser Classic to her lips, shaking her head at her roommate and the Orion at the bar. "We aren't making it to the club, are we?"

Nyota chuckles, taking another sip of her Slusho Mix. "Why do we need to dance, when all the men here have heeded their mating call?" She gestures to the bar, where Gaila and Janice are standing side-by-side, in garments that barely qualify as clothing, Around them, the men swarm like bees around blossoms — or hyenas around pieces of meat.

"You know," Christine starts, "when I signed up for the Academy, I don't remember checking the box that asked, 'Would you be willing to be a surrogate mother for wayward cadets who love showing off their bodies and getting laid'?" Nyota laughs as Christine takes another drink. "I _know_ I'm too old for this."

"You and me both, Chris."

"Nyota, you're almost 23. I'm 35!"

"And you don't look a day over 25."

They tip their glasses against each other.

"So," Christine says, "what's going on with you, and why are you over here with this old fuddy-duddy and not up there getting free drinks?"

She forces out a sigh as her mind turns to Spock. She has absolutely no problems going out for a drink and a dance with the girls, but she knows perfectly well that the majority of men, or male humanoids, only have one thing on their minds. She'll talk with them, fine, and make friendly conversation. But, of course she will stop short of flirting.

"I've been fine. Not much going on, you know." She forces nonchalance into her voice; she hates not telling people about her and Spock, but she needs to keep the information limited as much as possible. "I'm not much in the mood for socializing like Gaila and Rand are. I just needed to get out of Kyle's lab and the apartment. And it's been too long since we all got together."

Christine hums contemplatively. "It wouldn't have anything to do with Commander Spock now, would it?"

"You really should learn not to listen to Gaila—"

"On the contrary," she replies in her soft voice, her large eyes turning to Nyota, an enigmatic smile playing across her face, "Gaila's gone oddly quiet about you and your Commander. Just like _that_." She snaps her fingers. "And we know that Gaila never shuts up about anything."

Nyota lets her head fall backward. "I really can't—" She feels a hand gently pat her knee.

"Don't worry, I won't say a word to anyone." Christine gives her a wink. "I guessed about you two on my own, but I definitely don't want you to get into trouble, okay? I won't even tell Janice, and if she guesses too, I won't encourage it."

"Thank you," she whispers with sincerity. "We've told the council, and we're supposed to be discreet. So if you didn't tell anyone, I — _we_ — would really appreciate it."

"Besides," the blond-haired cadet says, refocusing on their friends at the bar and making sure they are all right, "if the Academy kicks you out, how in the world am I supposed to handle those two on my own without your help?"

Nyota snorts — and then she groans. For into the bar walks James T. Kirk, followed closely by Leonard McCoy.

"Oh hell!"

"What?"

Nyota nods at the two new customers, who are looking around them. "In walked trouble."

"Who? McCoy?" Christine asks, a smile on her face. She laughs, a light tinkling sound that is pleasant to hear.

"No, not him. Kirk!" She points at the younger man, already gravitating to a couple of girls at the bar. "McCoy's fine."

Christine bobs her head in agreement. "Yes he is. He's not trouble at all. In fact, he's very skilled. Talented."

"He's also a bit — is colorful the right word?"

"How about 'fluent in provocative communication.' But he's quite handsome."

"Christine!"

"Well, he is, Nyota. You should see him in scrubs."

"Chapel? Uhura?" asks a gruff, Southern accented voice. The two women look up, Christine spluttering in her beer. In front of them stands Leonard McCoy, smiling with a hint of awkward surprise. His eyes seem to linger mostly on the blond nursing cadet. "Good to see you two out tonight."

Christine wipes her mouth and grins at the doctor. "Leonard, it's nice to see you outside of class."

"Now how many times do I have to tell ya — my friends call me Bones, Chapel?" He puts his hands on his hips with mock indignation, but he is clearly amused, giving her a lopsided grin.

"Well, perhaps I want to stand out from everyone else. And do I need to remind you that it's _Christine_, Leonard?"

Nyota can barely contain her shocked, but gleeful surprise; seeing Christine flirt with Bones so openly is quite amusing. "Please," she says, holding her hand out, "join us."

"Don't mind if I do. _Jim_!" McCoy gestures for his friend to join then, and Nyota stifles the Klingon swearword that is about to escape her lips, the thought of Kirk joining them annoying her to no end. But Bones flaps his hand and flattens his mouth. "He's busy, apparently." He sits in the seat held out for him and falls into easy — and welcome — conversation with Christine.

Nyota looks behind her, and rolls her eyes. Jim is chatting with a couple of girls, holding two longnecks in one hand. Gaila and Janice, thankfully, are in a corner farther away, chatting with a couple of other guys.

Stealing a glance at Christine and McCoy, who are no doubt sharing tales about Advanced Xenopathology, she leaves them be and approaches Kirk. She taps on the cadet's shoulder.

"Wha–? Hey! Uhura." He flashes her a huge smile and whispers something to the two giggly, busty girls that are with him. They nod and depart, although Jim's eyes remain permanently planted on their backsides. Finally, he turns his attention back to Nyota. "What's up? Whoa — is that an Orion over there?"

She pulls him to a corner of the bar, drawing his attention back to her and away from her roommate, who has, thankfully, not spotted Kirk. "I wanted to see how you're doing, but it looks like you're better."

That arrogant smirk makes its appearance again, and Kirk sets his bottle of beer down on the countertop of the bar. "So you _do_ get worried about me, huh?"

She remains serious, folding her arms together. She hopes her body language will deter him from making any unwanted and vulgar comments. "I was, because I saw that you almost strangled a librarian over a dissertation, which you could've gotten easily through the database."

He winces. "Yeah… I sort of remembered that after snapping in the library. Bones took great pains to remind me."

She snorts. "Also you looked like hell."

"As you can see, Cadet Beautiful, I clean up well!" He does. There are no fresh scars on his face and no bags under his eyes. Her lips twitch and she spins around to head back to her table.

"Whoa! Whoa there, Uhura." Kirk grabs her arm.

"Yes?"

"I know I was acting like a maniac that day you saw me in the library. There were a couple of weeks there when I wasn't myself at all. I just wanted to thank you for helping McCoy get me back to our apartment."

She looks at him suspiciously. Kirk sounds somewhat nice and humble, but she expects that he will add something that will ruin the moment. However, thankfully, he does not.

"You're welcome," she replies cautiously.

"You sound like you don't believe me."

"I half-expect that whatever comes out of your mouth will be something rude, arrogant, or sexual in nature."

"Ah! Well, far be it from me to disappoint you—"

Nyota groans and holds her hand up as she turns around again. "Forget it."

"Okay! All right, I won't, I won't. But I do need to ask you something."

Nyota pivots. She will probably be very dizzy before this evening ends. "Ask."

"If — _if_ — I were to take the _Kobayashi Maru_ again, would you, Cadet Still-Refuses-To-Tell-Me-Your-First-Name Uhura, be my communications officer? Again?"

She opens her mouth to say no—

"And before you say no, this time I'll be more professional and less cocky. Promise."

Nyota cannot stop her mouth. "Is that even possible?"

Kirk looks at her, annoyed. "Don't you believe in second chances? Plus, if you aren't there to help keep me in line, I could very well go full batshit on the administrators. C'mon, Uhura." He flaps his hand, making a beckoning motion. C'mon – c'mon – c'mon – c'mon—"

"Alright, alright! If you take the _Kobayashi Maru_ again, I'll be your communications officer."

"Naked?"

"Don't push it, Kirk!"

* * *

Her hands caress it gently, the sensation of such intimate contact warming the tips of her fingers.

Nyota hums. She smiles and looks into Spock's eyes. "It's beautiful."

"You handle my instrument well, Nyota. If I did not know better, I would say that you are an expert."

"I know I've got a lot of things to learn about playing your instrument, Spock." She shuts her eyes and continues stroking it. "But I could play it all day long."

"And I would not stop you."

"You wouldn't, hm?" She opens her eyes and looks at him.

"I would never pass on the opportunity to listen to the Vulcan lute." He gestures to the object Nyota holds against her body. "The tones it produces stimulate the portions of the Vulcan brain that are affected by our mediation. Our music, therefore, relaxes us, helps refocus and center our minds, our emotional impulses."

She looks at the smooth wood, at the curve of the handle, and she gives the strings one last pluck. "It's so lovely."

This is the second time she has worked with the lute, and Spock admires how much her finger work has improved. Indeed, with music, as with languages, she learns very quickly. As she is about to place it back on the glass coffee table in Spock's sparsely decorated, simply furnished apartment, the Vulcan touches her hand, halting her.

"If you would allow me, I will teach you a song." She nods and Spock moves her so that she faces away from him, her back pressed against his chest.

"What are you—?" She stops talking.

His arms circle her body. His hands rest on top of hers. She stills. This feels good.

Truly, this feels amazing.

"Mimic the placement of my fingers on the neck," he says, his mouth close to her ear, his breath dancing on her skin. She complies, and she lets Spock guide her hand.

The melody, at once haunting and familiar, wafts through the air. The song is melancholy in sound, thanks to the harp. The style is different from the original version, but Nyota knows it. Her ear tweaks at the notes and she hums each note, reaching into the back of her mind for a memory—

She can hardly believe it.

"The Beatles," she says breathlessly. She turns and faces Spock, whose face is so very close. "This is _She Loves You_."

"Your tone indicates surprise."

Their fingers are laced, but still they move across the neck, producing the now different, but still recognizable melody. "It's just… you know The Beatles?"

"I was tested on various areas of Earth culture in our learning center. There was a unit on the master composers of the twentieth century. Among them was the catalog of John Lennon and Paul McCartney."

She shivers with pleasure at the silky tone of his voice. It is his private voice, the one he saves only for her. That soft sound, the music of the lute, his body wrapped around hers... damn if the room does not suddenly feel hotter.

They finish playing the final chords. She turns her head toward his, smiling when she faces him fully. "You learned about The Beatles on Vulcan? Your world amazes me."

His chin practically touches her shoulder, which is partially bare thanks to another sleeveless top that she borrowed from Gaila. Her skin tingles as it anticipates contact with the Vulcan… _if he decided to kiss me there_…

She can feel his chest rise against the small of her back. It surprises her, sometimes, the location of the Vulcan heart. But it beats, and it beats fast. Although the speed is normal for a Vulcan, she would like to think that perhaps, just perhaps, she has an affect on him.

Spock takes the instrument from her grasp and places it gently on the table in front of his couch. Nyota closes her eyes as he touches her hair. He holds the strands in his hand, feeling the tendrils in his palm.

"There are advantages to this particular style." With a finger, he sweeps a lock from her forehead.

"You like my hair down?" She brings her hand to his cheek, rubbing circles with her thumb.

"It is not regulation, but it is pleasing to the visual and tactile senses."

"Is it pleasing to _your_ senses?"

She can feel, even hear, the slightest shift in his breathing.

_Maybe I do affect him?_

It does not last long, and he regains control easily. Neither wait for the other to answer, and they kiss.

Nyota's hand remains on his face, that same wonderful warmth spreading through her. It is more powerful this time, more intense. It takes hold in her chest and envelops her from the inside out, bursting, retreating, and bursting again. The sensation compels her other hand to snake around his waist.

Spock's arms surround her, drawing her to him. His palm spreads flat against her back and another hand cups the nape of her neck. She feels his long fingers weaving through her hair.

Their lips part; Nyota regains her breath, her forehead touching his. She runs her tongue over her lips. "I want you."

"Nyota?"

She meets his dark eyes; although his own breathing is steady and nowhere near as labored as hers, his eyes, heavy-lidded and smoky, tell a far different story.

"Spock, I want you. And I'm pretty sure that you're feeling the same way."

He takes a couple of breaths through his nose, blinking as he does so. "You should not doubt the depth of my—" He stops, searching for the right words. "My desire for you. Physically," he says softly as he touches her hair, "intellectually. On many levels."

She does not waste any more time talking. She brings her lips to his, and they kiss with a greater intensity than before.

That is, before a _beep_ echoes in the room. Spock pulls away and Nyota's hands fall from his face.

"_Incoming message. Location: Vulcan. Now receiving: Grayson, Amanda._"

Spock pulls away from Nyota. If the announcement affects him, he does not show it. "Computer, please relay the message to my office. Nyota, you will excuse me." He gets up from his couch, and leaves the room.

Deciding to freshen up, Nyota slowly walks away from the living room of the apartment and around the corner. The apartment contains various shades of browns and tans. Any ornamentation inside serves a purpose, saying something of Spock's home world. A couple of Vulcan daggers hang on the wall. A Vulcan flute sits on a shelf. She touches a small, metallic teapot resting next to a cluster of pots containing plants he uses in meditation. Each piece reveals something about him, about his home world. It makes her smile.

As she turns toward the hallway, in her search for the bathroom, her ears perk up at the sound of a conversation being spoken entirely in Vulcan Prime. She can hear Spock's voice, dispassionate in tone. Replying to him was a female voice possessing a warm quality.

A very human quality.

"..._A mother's prerogative, Spock_."

"_Indeed. However, I am not in distress nor am I in need of monitoring at the present moment._"

"_When a mother misses her child, it is normal to contact them._" There is a gentle laugh. "_Apparently, I miss you. A great deal._"

Nyota does not mean to eavesdrop, but the shock of the laughter, the realization that this is Spock's mother, overcoming her sense of propriety.

"_I wanted to tell you, Spock: T'Pring has asked the elders that she would prefer to relinquish her bond._"

Nyota peeks past the entrance. She sees Spock, sitting in a chair, his attention given wholly to the illuminated screen in front of him. She cannot see his mother from her angle, but she can hear her perfectly.

And she finds herself intrigued by this T'Pring person.

"_I thought that impossible without undergoing the proper rituals_."

"_Traditionally, it is. But the elders are searching to see if there's an acceptable solution to her request. Your father does not wish the bond to be severed, but he is working with the elders on the task. They have asked for his assistance._"

"_They are unlikely to find an answer. If there were a simpler solution other than the_ Kali-if-fee, _it would have been utilized. It is an exercise in futility._"

"_They're still looking, dear. But enough of that unpleasant business. I want to know how you're doing. I feel as though I haven't spoken to you in ages._"

"_It has been one month and fifteen days, according to the Earth calendar, Mother. That is not the standard definition of 'ages.'_"

"_Yes, but for me, going a month without speaking to you is far too long._"

Nyota cannot stop a bubble of laughter from bursting out; knowing Spock's mother was human is one thing, but listening to the commander conversing with his mother is unexpected. Spock, who values logic and cool reasoning above all emotion, can still be ruffled by his parents.

Some things simply do not change from species to species.

Spock looks up in her direction.

"Nyota?" He talks at the same time his mother also asks — in English — "_Spock, you didn't tell me you have company._"

Nyota really wants to kick herself; she cannot believe she can be so rude — or so conspicuous. "Sorry," she whispers. Spock bows his head and turns back to the monitor.

"Mother," Spock replies, "I do have company this evening. I was under the impression that our conversation would not last long, so I did not tell you that she was here."

"_She? Why son, is this the girl you told me about_—"

Before she can continue, Spock clears his throat and stands. "Nyota, you may enter." He speaks slightly louder and more rapidly than normal, cutting his mother off before she can finish her statement.

Apparently, Spock has discussed her with his mother prior to their relationship. And furthermore, his mother has the ability to embarrass him. This could be very entertaining.

Slowly, she approaches the desk and stands next to the Vulcan. The woman on the screen has brown eyes, shaped like Spock's, but bigger. Her face is slightly lined, mature but far from old. She smiles, and Nyota wonders if this is what Spock might look like if he ever allowed himself such an indulgence as an expression of happiness or joy.

"Mother, this is Cadet Nyota Uhura. She is a former student of mine."

"_Oh,_ this _is Cadet Uhura?_" Mrs. Grayson — or is it Mrs. Sarek? — looks at her with obvious, but controlled excitement. "_It's a pleasure to meet you_."

"Please call me Nyota," she replies with a gentle voice and a smile. "Uh, Mrs.—?"

"_Amanda, dear. Please, I insist._" Her eyes move to her son, and she speaks in Vulcan Prime again. "_Son, you provided a very complimentary description of her, but it didn't do her justice. She's beautiful!_"

Nyota chuckles; she looks at Spock, whose face has darkened slightly and whose jaw has tightened a minute amount. "Mother, I did tell you that Cadet… Nyota is fluent in Vulcan."

"_Oh? She is?_"

"Yes. We have had more than one conversation about that topic."

Amanda presses her fingers to her mouth. "_Ah! Yes, now I remember. I apologize for my memory lapse,_" she responds, returning to English. Nyota grins, and in a surprising moment, Amanda gives her a wink.

"_Spock, I'll let you two return to your evening._"

"Thank you."

Amanda gives her son the Vulcan salute. "_Live long and prosper, dear._"

He returns the gesture. "Live long and prosper, Mother."

"_It was nice to meet you, Nyota._"

"Same here, Amanda."

The older woman bows her head and the screen goes black, save for the symbol of the Federation.

"I apologize. At times, my mother can be indulgent."

Nyota laughs. "She's a mom. That's what they do."

His expression is flat, except for his nostrils, which expand slightly due to a sharp intake of air, connoting slight annoyance. "It can be vexing."

"She wouldn't be a mother if she wasn't."

He faces Nyota as they continue to stand in his office. "I will understand if the interruption has altered the mood of the evening and you wish to resume this at a later date."

"Not quite," she says, touching his chest. Certainly a part of her wants to proceed where they left off, which was the possibility of seeing him without his clothing. However, another part of her wants to know about something she overheard.

"Spock, I want to ask you a question."

"You may ask."

"Who is T'Pring? And what is this bond T'Pring has that she wants to sever? And what in the world does it have to do with you?"

Spock avoids looking at her directly. His eyes sweep to a point behind her head, and she watches him swallow.

"Okay, so I wanted to ask you three questions." She tries to keep this light, but something in his reaction, in his avoidance, gnaws at her, and suspicion creeps into her words.

He meets her eyes. "Apparently, the time has come to have this discussion. Before we proceed any further in our relationship."


	9. part nine

**A/N:** So many, _many_ apologies. I've been on vacation, then back at work, then sick, then plagued with a sick computer. Is there a swine flu virus for Macs? Again, big thanks to **mrstater** for her beta-read. I'm still working on Part Ten... I really appreciate anyone who's still up for reading this, after this horrible delay! I'm trying to get back on track, writing-wise.

In case you forgot: Nyota and Spock were at his apartment, when a call from Vulcan interrupted them. It was Amanda, telling her son about T'Pring. Nyota overheard. I also took Amanda's words that Spock quotes directly from Alan Dean Foster's novelization of the movie. And now, for the fallout....

* * *

**Part Nine: Science Versus the Heart**

"Bonded?"

"Yes, Nyota."

"_Bonded_."

"It does not matter how many times you repeat it. Nothing has changed."

For one moment, Nyota wishes Spock would react to her temper. She stands up from his couch and paces across his living room.

"You appear to be agitated."

She inhales — very deeply. "I _am_ agitated! I'm more than agitated!" She crosses her arms in front of her chest, staring at him with fiery eyes, breathing very hard.

They stare at each other for a few seconds. Neither of them move; neither of them speak.

"You should enlighten me as to the crux of your agitation."

A part of her wants to make him regret that invitation. She bites her tongue, holding back what she really wants to say. "You've been bonded," she starts slowly, her anger boiling beneath her deceptively calm surface, "to a woman named T'Pring since you were seven years old. And if you don't mate with her and complete the bond, you will die. Did I miss anything?"

"That is an overly simplistic restatement of what I have told you."

She cocks her eyebrow. Her nostrils flare.

"For now, though, it will suffice." His quick speech indicates that he wants to placate her. This is futile. Although Nyota picks up on the mellowness of his tone, it does nothing to assuage her anger. Instead, she holds up one finger, shuts her eyes, and counts backward from twenty.

…_19…18…17…_

She remembers that he is not of this world.

…_15…14…_

This is how Vulcans mate. It is part of his culture. It is tied directly to his biology and physical well-being.

…_10…9…8…_

He has revealed something intensely personal and private for Vulcans. Although he does not express discomfort with his face or words, it is there in his pauses and his breaths. And his eyes. There were more than a few times when Nyota saw conflict, the way he looked at the floor when she pressed him.

…_5…4…3…2…_

She opens her eyes and takes a breath. Spock stands in the center of his living room, his hands folded in front of him. He is perfectly still, waiting for her to finish. One would think he is not breathing. If it is not for the occasional blink, he would be mistaken for a statute.

She sits back down on his couch. The voice that comes out of her is calm and controlled, although there is emotion raging beneath the surface. It is rather Vulcan-like, if she is being honest.

"Spock, I'm angry that I didn't know about T'Pring before we started seeing each other. And honestly, I feel stupid."

"That was not my intention. You have no reason to feel like this."

Nyota holds her hand up. "That's the problem with feelings. They're irrational, and I can be very irrational. I feel you should be with T'Pring and not me. That I'm convenient because you're here and I'm here, and she's not. And you're biding your time with me rather than wanting to actually be with me."

He continues to watch her, saying nothing. Doing nothing.

She speaks again. "Like I said. Emotions. They're not logical."

Spock takes his turn, walking around the table and coming next to Nyota. He sits down next to her.

"Nyota, when you made your preference for me known, I reciprocated, did I not?"

"Yes. Although now, I'm starting to question your motivations."

Spock's mouth hardens as he blinks once. "Our actions have been at odds with Starfleet's ethical codes, and, indeed, our own convictions of what is and what is not proper behavior between an instructor and a cadet. I have struggled with how to reconcile that which I desire — a connection with you — with the rules of an organization that I have sworn to uphold. I have done so; in fact, we have done so despite the risks. Are these the actions of someone who intends for a relationship to reach a finite point?"

She does not answer his rhetorical question, although she can see his point.

He takes her hands out of her lap and holds them in his own. Nyota almost — _almost_ — removes them, but she does not.

"In retrospect, I should have discussed the matter with you before we reached this stage."

"I'm glad you've realized that _now_." Her voice is dagger-sharp.

"If there is one aspect of my character that you should understand, it is that whatever actions I engage in, I engage because I choose to."

"You could _choose_ to be with me as a placeholder until you're reunified with T'Pring."

"That is not a logical choice. It would be illogical to enter into a personal, intimate union with another if one knows it will ultimately be terminated."

She laughs cynically; there are plenty of men and women, and other species, who would disagree with that sentiment. Looking at his impassive face, so different from the connection conveyed by his touch, Nyota takes a deep breath. "I needed to know about this, Spock. Before you and I began anything."

"It is not the Vulcan way to discuss such a private matter."

"But you're part human, and you're seeing me and I'm human. We have to be honest with each other, or I'm gone."

He stiffens considerably, and his nose and lips twitch. Imperceptible by other humans, but Nyota's eye catches the subtle movements. "I understand now.

"If we continue to see each other, this is going to become a big issue, don't you agree?"

"That is a reasonable assumption."

She still feels swells of anger within her. There is a sense that things have irreparably changed between them and she feels jabs in her chest, in her stomach. Unpleasant and unwanted.

There is no solving this tonight, but there are a million questions still running around in her brain. But she doesn't ask them; right now, she is too scared of the answers. Before this, Nyota thought that there was mutual respect and honesty between them. She thought that it was in his nature to speak the truth. The revelation shakes her. She does not know where she stands with him, and his touch does not help clarify matters.

Nyota's anger slowly gives way to a heavier feeling, something that falls into the pit of her stomach. She needs to leave here, and soon, because the last thing she wants to do is start crying in front of him.

"I… am going to go now." She is proud that her voice, although soft, is steady. She stands, and Spock follows suit.

"Is there anything that I can do—?"

"No." Nyota interrupts, her voice brisk and cutting. She grabs her bag. "I'm tired. And I won't like myself if I stay here any longer." Walking toward his door, she waits for it to slide open. She keeps her back to him and her chin begins to quiver.

"Shall I contact you tomorrow?"

"No. I'll call you." She doesn't turn around, she refuses to face him.

"Nyota—"

"_Spock_." Her voice reveals every bit of anger, frustration and sadness she is feeling. She knows that her eyes are watering, but, thankfully, the tears are not falling. Yet. "I'm going. I need to leave. And you need to understand that."

His mouth opens, but only slightly. He shuts it immediately, giving her the chance to finally walk out the door and out of the building.

Once she is a suitable distance away, Nyota finds an empty bench. She sits and runs a hand through her hair, her breath starting to shake.

One tear falls… and then another…

She cries earnestly. Painfully. She clutches her stomach with her hands, bends over and weeps. Her hands cover her eyes, as if to prevent the harsh truth from flooding her head. But her brain works against her and she continues crying so hard that she can feel her throat burning. She thinks the same thoughts over and over again—

_T'Pring_…

_She is bonded to Spock_…

_T'Pring will be with Spock. When all is said and done, she will have him and I will lose him. _

_T'Pring… _

_She is bonded to Spock…_

Nyota wipes her wet cheeks, but the tears keep coming. Behind her, there is a rustle of something, as if someone is approaching her. She turns around.

"Spock?"

No one is there. She feels like an idiot.

Sniffling, she reaches into her bag and pulls out her PADD. She touches the screen, transmitting a message that she hopes Gaila will receive.

And she does. Her roommate meets her there in ten, maybe fifteen minutes.

"Don't ask any questions, please. I just… I really don't want to be alone."

Gaila holds her hands up. "No problem," and waits for Nyota to gather her things. They walk back to the apartment. Their arms linked together, Nyota uses Gaila to hold her up when the same thoughts roar through her mind again.

* * *

"_YEARRH_!"

Nyota is in the campus gym, using one of the Academy's combat training rooms and a poor, defenseless training bag. She sweats, wipes her brow, rears back and punches it — hard.

"_TAKE THAT_! _ERRGH_! _YERRGH_!"

"Nyota?"

She grunts, ignoring Gaila as the Orion tried to get her attention. She clocks the bag violently, almost imagining it to be the face of a man with sharply angled eyebrows, black hair, pointed ears, and a penchant for misleading gullible, stupid cadets.

Gullible, stupid cadets who wanted to take their relationship further without all the facts…

If there is one thing she hates above all else, it is feeling gullible, stupid…

"_DAMMIT_!"

And misled. By someone she cares about.

"Hey! Warrior Princess!"

Nyota freezes, her arm reared, her fist ready. "What?"

Gaila holds the bag still. "Get a grip, all right? I don't think the Academy'd be all that happy if you pummel the stuffing out of their best training equipment."

Instead of backing down, Nyota gives the bag another punch and storms away, with Gaila following close behind her.

"I know you're not going to tell me about what happened Saturday night—"

"And you're right!" As soon as the words escape Nyota's mouth, she feels a hand around her arm.

"That doesn't mean I'm going to just let you go on a tear. Nyota, give me a little something."

Nyota stares at her roommate. "Look. all I want to do is kick and hit things. Kicking and hitting things'll make me feel better. Kicking and hitting things means I can pretend I'm hitting _him_ and I won't be court martialed!"

She wrestles her arm out of Gaila's grasp and walks over to another practice dummy. She bends her legs and stiffens her hands, bracing her body for the first kick. She lets loose a furious blow, her foot making impact with a loud _SMACK_!

"He pissed you off so much that you're imagining this is his face?"

Nyota slams her heel into the firm pad. "You wouldn't believe how much." She grunts as she kicks again.

Gaila stands watching Nyota, her hands on her hips. "I don't understand what he could've done that's so terrible you're wishing for his decapitation."

Nyota gives the bag two more kicks and retreats, hopping back and forth on both feet. "Can't tell you," she huffs in between panting breaths.

"Fine. Don't give me specifics. Give me a quick run-through."

Nyota glares at the Orion. She stops moving. "If I talk, will you leave me alone?"

"It depends on what you say."

Breathing hot air through her nose, Nyota walks over to grab her towel and water bottle. She wipes her face and neck and drinks until she feels slightly refreshed. Gaila never takes her eyes off of her.

Nyota throws her towel into a laundry receptacle and heads to the entrance that leads outside into the main area of the gymnasium. They enter the main floor of the large gymnasium complex. Nyota looks around to see how many people are nearby. It is busy, as it is a weekend. Everyone is in their own little world, going to workout classes, training rooms, or meeting friends. To the left of the women, a large group of cadets are hanging around another training room, pointing and commenting about something inside. They slowly make their way over to the throng, talking as they walk.

"I'm not going to tell you specifics, but, suffice it to say that males of any species are all capable of pulling the exact same bullshit." Nyota rolls her eyes. "They'll lure you in, make you feel really good about where your relationship's going, and then — _WHAM_!" For impact, she hits the palm of her hand with her fist. "They completely blindside you and forget to tell you a _massively important detail_ that can affect the future of your relationship."

"Like?"

Nyota leans toward her friend and whispers to her. "It's not my place to say. But I'd probably be justified to end it right here and now."

The Orion woman's eyes practically burst out of her head. "No way! Are you sure it's not just, you know, a big interspecies misunderstanding and a little make-up nookie will make everyone happy?"

"That's the problem. We almost — _took our relationship to the next level._" Nyota drops her voice low so the growing mob in front of them will not hear them. They do not have to worry about that; the crowd is fully engrossed in whatever is going on in the training room in front of them.

Gaila hears every word, and she gasps at the confession. "_No_!"

"Uh-huh." Nyota sinks her cheeks inward, chewing on them as he tries to keep her feelings in check. "He would've been just fine with it without ever letting me know about this 'something'."

"Maybe you should give him a tiny bit of leeway."

Nyota glares at her.

"Will you hear me out, before you decide to bash my head in?"

Resigned, she gestures for Gaila to continue. The Orion clears her throat and adopts a pedantic expression. "This is probably the commander's first foray into a serious human relationship."

"No," Nyota interrupts, "his mother's human."

"If your relationship with him is anything like his mother's, then… ew!"

"I'm not saying that. He was raised by his mother. And he's lived in San Francisco for several years now since he entered the Academy. He's very aware of human behavior and what is and isn't acceptable."

Gaila stares flatly at her. "Are you sure? Because it took me awhile to figure out you didn't like it when I had my partners in our apartment. And other things that humans think are bizarre or completely taboo, but are perfectly acceptable on my home world."

"That's different."

"Is it? I've found ways to manage my pheromones and my appetites here, but if the elderwomen on Orion saw me on Earth, they would think I've lost my way, that I've given up the Orion way of life. Spock's found ways to navigate within human culture. And part of that, apparently, is deciding to be in a relationship with you. That comes with a learning curve."

"But—"

"But _no_. You have to remember the two of you are from different worlds. Just as he's learning, you have to exercise patience and understanding. And he'll do the same for you."

Nyota is silent for a beat. Finally, she whistles and she looks at Gaila, reluctantly impressed. "Damn. Someone just found their inner relationship advisior."

"Correction: my inner intergalactic relationship advisor."

With a heavy sigh, Nyota intones, "Yes, I guess you're right."

"Wait, what's that?" Gaila pushes closer, her finger against her ear. "I didn't quite catch you—"

Nyota shakes her head. "I said I guess you're right."

Gaila looks at her, immensely proud of herself. "Yep, I do believe I am."

The two women reach the crowd, and upon approach, they are surprised to see Janice Rand and Christine Chapel standing right at the front. Christine motions for them to come over.

"What's going on?"

Christine turns Nyota toward the glass room in front of them. "You might be interested to see this."

Nyota stands before the large glass walls. In front of a training dummy with long poles sticking out from it is Spock. His strength, speed, and endurance are all on display as he demonstrates the most extraordinary martial arts skills she has ever seen. He twists and darts. He strikes the device with sharp, fast hands, with such strength and force that Nyota would have thought the training dummy would break.

"By the Great Goddess Anyanka!" Gaila breathlessly exclaims.

Around her, Nyota can hear the clamor of cadets straining to see as much as possible of the Vulcan. But her eyes remain focused on Spock, who is dressed in sleeveless black from head to toe. She watches his body, his muscles, the movement of his hands, the unbelievable precision of his kicks. His arms, lean and powerful, move faster and more assured than is humanly possible. And though he sweats, though he fights with superhuman sureness and speed, she can see his face. He remains as stoic as ever.

Kick. Thrust. Strike. He whirls and her eyes barely catch how he attacks the post. Watching him move in ways no human is capable of performing, with an agility no human possesses, Nyota thinks back to the conversation she just had with Gaila.

"_You have to remember the two of you are from different worlds. Just as he is learning, you have to exercise patience and understanding. And he'll do the same for you._"

Amidst all her anger and sadness and humiliation, Nyota realizes that she has not been as understanding as she should have been. And worse, she has missed him even though it has only been a few days since they last saw or spoke to each other. She did not contact him the Sunday following their fallout, and she actively avoided routes that would take her past his office and his classrooms. Only a couple of times did they pass each other in the hallways. Nyota would stiffen her body and pointedly look forward, even though her eyes betrayed her to catch a fleeting glimpse of the commander.

And she would see him doing the same. Both times she had to take deep breaths to calm herself; it felt far too much like a breakup and such a thought brought tears to her eyes.

"Maybe he should teach our hand-to-hand courses," Christine offers, her soft voice cuts through Nyota's memories and observations. She does not know what is going on between her and the commander presently.

Janice taps her playfully with her elbow. "Nyota, you are one lucky girl. Nummy!"

"That's what I say!" Gaila pipes up.

"Would you two shut it?" Nyota says, annoyed. "And who told you about us?" she asks Janice in a harsh whisper.

Janice scoffs. "Well, no one did. I guessed. I'll forgive you for not telling me."

Nyota hisses at her. Janice and Christine share a silent laugh. Gaila gives Nyota's arm a gentle squeeze.

With a final kick and slice of his hand, Spock stands back from the dummy. He inhales, and brings his arms together, touching his fingertips and holding them in front of his chest. He remains close-lipped and focused on something ahead of him, only blinking, never showing the physical strain of his workout.

All around Nyota, the girls who had been watching the last portion of his workout start applauding. Even Gaila and Janice join in. Christine smiles and pats her on the shoulder, momentarily snapping her out of her trance.

Spock shifts his head toward the clapping. Several of the girls are still going at it, even daring to shout out a couple of catcalls. Nyota glares at Gaila and Janice; of course, the loudest whistling comes from them.

He scans the crowd — and he sees her. His eyebrow angles up only millimeters; it is the only movement his face makes.

Spock emerges from the training room. He is no longer sweating. He is as calm and as collected as ever, even as he stands before them. "I was not aware that observing officers during their training sessions warranted applause, much less an audience."

Several of the cadets murmur awkward apologies and excuses, all lost on the commander, as well as Nyota, who has turned sharply on her heels. She walks toward the entrance of the gym. She can still hear Spock; his voice sounds slightly sharper than normal. "As you were."

She is not sure if the edginess to his voice is apparent to anyone else, but she does not stop to observe. Nyota approaches the entrance to the gym. She steps outside, hearing footsteps, strong and purposeful, following closely behind her.

Once outside, she moves off the sidewalk, letting others pass. She keeps her back turned away from the entrance, feeling her heart pounding from anticipation… waiting to hear, to see him…

The door slides open again. There are four more footsteps. "Good afternoon, Cadet Uhura."

A shudder runs through her upon hearing Spock's voice. "Commander," she says. She turns around slowly, making sure she looks as professional as possible.

He eyes her for one-point-five seconds. "You appear to be doing well."

Her lips twitch upwards; she almost wants to laugh because, right now, she appears to be doing her best impression of a Vulcan. "Appearances aren't all they seem, Commander."

A small shadow that moves across his face; it immediately disappears. "I have done as you requested and have not contacted you. If I am crossing any lines of personal impropriety by talking to you now, I shall go."

Nyota does not say anything, but her brow briefly drops as she considers how to answer this.

"By admitting that appearances are not what they seem, does that mean you are not actually well?"

"Sp–Commander," Nyota says, correcting herself; they are out in public after all. "I saw you working out in there." This does not answer his question, but she does not want to reply at the moment.

His head inclines towards the gym. "Several of your peers applauded at the end of my training. I did not understand their reaction. Was such a display from the other cadets necessary?"

Nyota thinks about her response. Her face shows nothing of the emotions that she feels, the things she wants to say. "They were impressed because you don't move like… like a human. Or like any other humanoid."

"I am aware of the differences between Vulcans and other species. Certainly, as Starfleet cadets, they too are aware of these variations."

"They are, but their emotions get the better of them. Curiosity, awe, envy... they feel these things and they react accordingly." She stops talking, but for only a moment. "Regardless if it is right or wrong."

Spock nods twice, slowly. "Is there a reason that you show no emotion?"

Nyota stares at him, confused. "What?"

Spock takes two steps closer to her. "Saturday evening, when you left my apartment, you were visibly upset and angry at me for the information that I withheld from you. From the time you left to the moment when Cadet A'baa'ntan walked you back—"

She is startled by this admission, realizing with horror that he saw her cry. "You followed me?"

"I had a responsibility to make sure you would be safe. I remained and observed you until you had an escort to your home. I took into account your warning to me prior to your departure that evening. I concluded it would have been unwise to make you aware of my presence."

The admission makes her tremble, and she presses shaking fingers against her mouth. Spock continues, his voice even but not the same soft, gentle tone that he uses when it is just them.

"Your reaction to seeing me today is unexpected. You show no emotion, either positive or negative, toward our encounter. Please elaborate as to why."

A small hiccup escapes from her as she lowers her hand. "I'm actually feeling a lot of different things, Commander. Things that I can't discuss with you right now."

He bows his head, his ears moving, pressing against his temples. "I understand." He pauses for three seconds exactly; Nyota counts it in her head. "Cadet Uhura, I will not keep you any longer. I hope you find the rest of your week satisfactory." With a final, salutary bow, he turns and walks away. Nyota watches him, her eyes focused on the back of his impeccably trimmed hair as a gentle breeze catches the strands.

"Commander! Wait!"

Spock stops immediately at the urgency of Nyota's voice. She jogs until she is closer to him, allowing herself to take in the pleasant scent of him, even after a workout.

"Are you available Friday evening?"

She catches Spock's eyes, indeed his face, as they soften. "I have no obligations."

Shaking but steeling herself so she can ask him her inquiry. "Would it be all right with you if I came over to finish our discussion? I'll take care of dinner."

There is a slight shift in Spock's face, as his mouth, cheeks and eyes ease up. "That is an acceptable proposal."

"We can meet at our spot at 1900."

Without giving anything away, he gives her one nod.

"Good. Friday evening it is then." She manages to give him a fleeting smile, and she wants to stay longer, to take him by the hand and have that conversation here and now. This gives her a little more time to think about what Gaila has said, about Spock's mistakes, and about her own. The mistakes should be discussed, but they should not prematurely end what could be something good, something special for the both of them.

Nyota feels a sense of peace envelop her. Smiling, she pivots and walks away.

* * *

They approach Spock's apartment silently. He carries the containers Nyota brought that are filled with a lovely vegetable and tofu curry, something she knows he likes. There is not much said between them as they walked. Nyota finds her mind preoccupied with dueling, persistent thoughts.

_T'Pring._

_He will be hers and I will lose him…_

"_You have to remember the two of you are from different worlds…"_

Spock allows her to enter his apartment first. She places her bag on the floor and removes her shoes. Spock stands next to his door. Pressing a button on the keypad, the soft notes of the Vulcan lute begin to play.

He points his finger up, as if gesturing to the notes. "This is an old Vulcan folk song that I knew well as a child.

She nods. "It's beautiful." Her voice is surprisingly calm. She takes the food from him, and walks into his kitchen. She is familiar enough with the space to know where the dishes are, and glasses and utensils.

She lays what they need on the brown stone countertop.

"You went to _Dosa_?"

Nyota nods. "I did."

"You selected my preferred dish."

She smiles. "That was on purpose."

Spock looks at the spread. "Though you went to much effort to prepare this, it may be best to commence our discussion about T'Pring and my bond with her."

Nyota stifles a choking sound. "Y-you don't mess around, do you?"

"I think it would be wise to begin this conversation early into the evening, in the hopes that an acceptable solution can be reached sooner rather than later."

She nods and moves past him, into his living room. She goes to the left corner of his couch, and smoothes the back of her skirt as she takes a seat. Spock follows her into the room, and he sits in a chair close to her, but allows a reasonable amount of space between them. To Nyota's surprise, he begins to speak, using the tone he reserves solely for when they are alone.

"I remember the times when my mother and my father would have disagreements. They were not frequent, but they did occur."

Nyota regards him steadily; her eyes never leave his.

"There was one occurrence, at the learning center. My parents argued — correction," he says, stopping himself. "My mother argued. My father discussed. She said to him, 'When Vulcans get disgusted with each other, they never just walk away, do they?'" His eyes are open and full of something Nyota thinks might be regret or sadness at the memory. "She would then walk away. Her absences were never long. They never exceeded what would be two hours by your clock, but they gave her enough time to temper the conflict. I know it affected my father in ways he could not tell me."

She blinks at this stark confession. "I see."

"I say this because I believe I now know what my father endured when she would leave. And as I did not see you for days, the affect upon me was in direct proportion to the duration of your absence."

The admission takes her breath away for a minute. "You missed me?"

Spock bows his head. "Profoundly."

Nyota feels tremors course through her body. She remains composed, although it is difficult. "I don't know how to respond to that."

"I require no response."

His reply surprises, almost shocks her. Nyota blinks quickly and finds her words. "As much as I thought, and still think, you were wrong for not telling me about T'Pring—" She surprises herself; saying T'Pring's name feels easier than before. "I was wrong too."

He raises his eyebrow at this. "You were?" Nyota gestures in agreement.

"I didn't let it sink in that this bond was extremely difficult for you to discuss. With me in particular because I am not a Vulcan."

"That is true."

"And I am the first, and only, human that you have discussed the matter with. Correct?"

Spock nods once. "Yes."

Nyota takes a deep breath through her nose. "I realized I had several problems with accepting this new information. I told you it made me feel stupid, like you're biding your time with me. I know that's not right, but it doesn't stop me from feeling this way.

"I also realize that what hurt me was that we were close to—" She has no idea how to phrase this. "We were close to becoming more intimate with each other." She leans forward. "I wanted you that night, and I would have taken that next step with you without knowing about T'Pring."

His expression flattens out, like he has realized something integral, that he has discovered some unknown variable that solves a mysterious equation. "I see now why the news had a strong affect on you."

Nyota reaches for his hand; he is close enough to offer it to her. "Sex, Spock, is not something I take lightly. I've made mistakes before, and I don't want that to happen with you." Her voice thickens. There is emotion building behind her sentiments, and it is going to hit her at any moment. She keeps it at bay; she doesn't want Spock to see her like this. Not now, at least.

"I told myself that the next man I choose to have sex with, I want to make sure it's for real and that I know him and I know him _well_."

This is such an odd way to carry on a conversation with a member of the opposite sex, Nyota thinks. Stark honesty, memories to represent and signify emotions, not a hint of obfuscation or innuendo. They both reveal themselves to the other person, and they offer themselves as they are.

That is all they can do. And hope that they can make this work. At least, that is what she wants.

"It was my mistake to not tell you about T'Pring, and I see how my failure to do so compounded and complicated your own feelings regarding the direction of our relationship." Spock's fingers gently rub the back of her hand. "On Vulcan, the bond is seen as a biological imperative by the elders. While we do not speak of it, it informs much of our behavior and our interactions with each other."

"How do Vulcans handle relationships that occur outside of the bond?"

Spock's expression lightens, the equivalent of a facial shrug. "The relationship ends if the female chooses marriage with her bonded partner, or if she invokes the _koon-ut-kal-if-fee_."

Nyota looks at him steadily. "The fight to the death."

"Between the bonded male and a male of her own choosing, typically the rival for her companionship." Spock clarifies. Nothing in his voice shows any apprehension or fear about this outcome. He is as stoic as ever.

She does not say anything dramatic like, "_But you could die!_" or, "_Don't do it! Stay here with me!_" Horrible clichés that are in movies that Gaila likes to watch during their girl nights while drinking wine. Instead, she simply breathes. "Then, it's in the hands of the females?"

"She commences the _kal-if-fee_, and she selects the male against whom the bonded will fight. If the bonded male emerges victorious, then he may keep her or release her."

"There's no other alternative?"

"With bonded Vulcans, there is little else. Intensive meditation will only be effective for a period of time, as the _plak tow_ that takes hold of us during our _pon farr_ can intensify with every occurrence."

Nyota speaks carefully. "From what I overheard, T'Pring wants to sever the bond with you. Is that something you would prefer?"

Shutting his eyes, Spock nods once. "It would be my preference."

"And if they cannot sever the bond prior to your _pon farr_, she will choose the _koon-ut-kal-if-fee_."

Spock nods again without hesitation. "That is the logical assumption."

"You could die." Her tone is deceptively calm, matching his demeanor perfectly.

"I might not."

"Or… you would kill? You would kill another Vulcan or humanoid or whomever to end the bond?"

His response is immediate. "While I recognize the moral objections, indeed even the repugnance you may feel as a human, this is understood by the Vulcans as the proper and logical means by which the bonding process can be fulfilled or rejected."

Nyota inhales deeply. "It is self-defense. It is _totally_ self-defense. I know it would be considered self-defense here." Again, her eyes meet his, and she can feel hers starting to water. "Not that humans have any say in Vulcan society." She shuts her eyes, wiping them as the first set of tears spill out. "Just this one." She looks at her wet fingertips.

"Sorry."

He does not embrace her to comfort her as the tears fall. Instead, he stands up gracefully from his chair and he makes his way toward the couch, sitting down less than half-a-foot from Nyota.

"Expressions of emotions are important, necessary for your kind. You should not apologize for them. I do not require it."

She cries as she laughs and she chokes on her words. "It's embarrassing."

"It is human. And as Vulcans embrace logic, humans should embrace their passions."

Nyota lifts her head up, sniffling. She swallows again, and she thinks she may have regained her composure. "You don't think less of me?"

"Never." At Spock's firm tone, Nyota chuckles and bats the water from her cheeks. Spock speaks again. "I will understand if you want to reconsider personal interactions with me, in light of these admissions."

As soon as she hears him say this, she feels herself shaking her head, instinctually, reflexively. "No. I want to continue this. I missed you. A lot. I like spending time with you. I like you. But… thinking about you dying…"

She cannot finish the thought. He remains silent.

Nyota breathes in through her nose. "This was a huge obstacle, but I want to work through it, okay?"

His mouth gives a hint of an upturn. "That is what I would prefer."

"Good." She is feeling slightly better, but she also feels emboldened to tell him what she needs to. "I'll tell you two things. I want to know if you think you'll be able to comply with them."

Spock gestures in agreement. "You may proceed.

Nyota clears her throat before she begins speaking. "Will you, in the future, be honest with me about whatever occurs with T'Pring? Will you tell me if anything changes and if anything will affect us?"

He considers her point, finally bowing his head. "That is reasonable."

She moves closer to him. She draws herself up and looks at him with gravely. "Second, if you do bond with T'Pring, you'll have to understand that I won't allow myself to be the other woman. If it comes to that, I will end this."

She watches his mouth press hard into a solid line, and something flashes in his eyes. Nyota feels his hand touch her check, and that surge, that electricity that courses through her every time they touch returns. Her eyes fly open and she looks at his face. No emotions register there, not that she expected it. But she revels in the contact and focuses on his eyes.

His voice is even, deep. "I cannot, I will not allow that to happen."

It is the words he chooses that hit her. From a human male, they would sound slightly possessive, harsh. From him, because he does not speak in terms of feelings or emotions, it takes on a far different resonance. He means that he will do what he needs to do, to make sure she stays. He will be here for her.

Her heart pounds against her chest. She opens her mouth to say something… but she places her palm low on his torso, feeling his heart beating in a place so different from hers. With no other words, she kisses him.

Spock remains still, his hand still on her cheek. Her lips glide over his, gently pecking the corners of his mouth, and then returning to the center, pressing against his. Spock's response increases, and when his lips part, she feels herself sink into him.

They clinch for several minutes, not breaking this contact because it does feel amazing and incredible and Nyota wants him. Somehow, they end up tangled on their couch, as a week's worth of emotional turbulence and the thought of reconciliation feeds into their desires. It is when she realizes that her hair is mussed and her hands are touching his chest and his body is positioned between her legs that both of them need more. In her mind, which is filled with a million simultaneous thoughts, it is the predominant one.

Spock pulls away first, but only barely, regaining control of his breath. His fingers caress her cheek, pausing slightly as if he wants them to linger there, seeking something that he has not yet asked for. His eyes never leave hers, and he touches his forehead to hers.

It takes him two inhalations before he can speak, and his tone is as calm as ever. "You still desire more from me."

This snaps Nyota out of her reveries. "There'll be time for that later," she says softly, giving him a final peck and standing back up to straighten her clothes. She walks to the kitchen, her step slightly lighter than before. "But for now, let's go eat."


End file.
